


Galatea

by chemiosmosis



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Art History, Drama, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Historical Accuracy, M/M, Mythology References, Romance, Sculpture, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:10:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 72,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chemiosmosis/pseuds/chemiosmosis
Summary: In 1940, Sehun bears with life in Korea under Japanese rule. He is a talented sculptor, working for the unofficial Busan Resistance out of resentment for the occupation. Then he meets Kai, a Japanese officer who takes an interest in Sehun and turns his world upside down.





	1. Kai

_He happily followed his parents up the stairs to the landing of their apartment building. He held the groceries and treats they bought on their trip to the market while his father opened the door. He bent his head to one of the parcels and inhaled the fragrant, wholesome smell of his birthday cake, almost tasting the delicate sugar rose decorations. It was difficult to procure such a treat these days but almost anything could be found in Seoul._

_He stepped into his home and gently dropped the packages before shaking his slightly sore arms. His mother opened a window, letting the balmy, breezy April air flit around their apartment, and announced that she was going to take a nap. He padded to the kitchen, wanting some more seaweed soup, when he heard a shrill scream and a deafening crash._

_He heard someone say, “Shhhhh…”_

_He went still for a moment, frozen both by the suddenness of the noise and a terrible sense of foreboding that was so overwhelming it seemed to almost smother him. He moved to his parents’ bedroom. The blood pounded in his head so hard that he swore his vision seemed to be pulsating. The apartment was eerily quiet now._

_His hand shook as he grasped the door knob. The metal felt icy against his fiery skin. He twisted and pushed the door open._

_He screamed._

He jolted awake in bed. His hands gripped the sheets as he tried to breathe. He felt like he was suffocating, as though he was inhaling thick smoke that clawed its way painfully into his lungs. He coughed before turning on to his side. His eyes widened.

On his night table sat a stubby candle. He must have dozed off before blowing out the flame. He usually did a bit of reading before bed. Although a candle was a welcome light source, especially considering the cost of electricity these days, and a warm and comforting method of illumination, tonight it served as an object of fear. The small, whimsical flame seemed to grow with the oxygen he couldn’t consume. His fear fed the flame, and it turned to a monstrous, raging inferno before his eyes, the blazing, licking flames reaching out to throttle him.

“Mom! Dad!” he cried, gasping for air. “F-fire!”

He started shaking so hard the bed creaked. The headboard rattled against the wall as the tremors increased in intensity. A searing, phantom pain trickled across the expanse of his chest, the thin spiderwebs of sensation burning red-hot into his skin. He flailed, yelling. The blanket tangled around his legs and abdomen felt like assailants pinning him down, thrusting him under the complete mercy of merciless beings. He twisted furiously, trying to escape but the thick fabric refused to relinquish its hold, squeezing his legs as he struggled and the soft, bouncy cotton padding felt like fingers pressing themselves cruelly against his skin. The blanket swaddled his body and it was as if hands were roughly grabbing his waist.

The book on his bed fell to the floor with a bang. He screamed.

He rose up and promptly fell off his bed, on to the floor. Shaken from his visions, he registered the inside of his room in the dim glow of the candle. He inhaled and exhaled shakily, filling his lungs with cool, crisp air. It was night now, and a breeze filtered through his window that was open a crack. It felt a bit too cold for a summer drift on his sweaty skin. A numbing pain was pulsing in his legs and rear, an irritating reminder that he fell off his bed—honestly, how old was he—but a welcome one. It meant that what he saw and felt was only a nightmare.

He was safe.

“Ow,” he complained before reluctantly getting up. It was a recurring dream, although that didn’t make the experience any easier to bear, and it had been months since it last came to haunt him. He grabbed the blanket, shaking it fervently before making the bed. He threw on a knit sweater before heading to his studio. He didn’t think he could fall asleep after that.

~

It was evening when he went to make dinner that he realized he was out of groceries. He poked at the rice he made this morning, wanting some vegetables. Scowling, he checked the time before leaving his apartment, walking quickly, but not fast enough that he would seem suspicious, to the market before it closed.

As he entered the square, he passed by a sentry who was staring at him. He was pretty much used to it now, the increased number of soldiers stationed in his country and the way they would sometimes leer at him, but his dream last night was still fresh on his mind. He shivered. The soldier nodded politely and smirked.

He hated stepping out of his apartment. He would always be accosted by soldiers who would call him beautiful and pretty and ask him out to dinner. They seemed to take delight in the fact that he seemed slightly terrified of them, although that was not a trait unique to him, as they thought that it mellowed down his chances of resisting their advances.

The soldiers repulsed him, and he was sickened by the fact that they could stand there at their sentries and expect him to answer their lustful invitations that they tried to pass off as being innocent, when they were aggressively seizing Korean property and goods for the gain of the Japanese Empire, when they were torturing and killing his countrymen, and when he knew and knew that _they_ knew that _he_ knew that these soldiers spent all of their free time in the courtesan district, so why bother pretending to be virtuous when they were anything but?

However, it paid to be friendly, not overly so, but enough that the soldiers wouldn’t see his reluctance as a challenge to be conquered. He played the shy card and gently flirted with them, and his quiet demeanor and naturally sweet disposition afforded him a certain leniency from the troops.

He sent the soldier a terse smile and went over to the vegetable stands, picking up the pace just a bit. It was 1940. _Thirty years,_ he thought, _that they’ve been in this country._ Japanese colonial rule was the norm for him, it was all he had known his entire life.

It hadn’t been this bad when he was younger. A movement in 1919 saw the Japanese lessen the imposition of their control. There were fewer soldiers, cheaper living costs, less fear. The Japanese allowed Koreans to be Korean back then. However, that all changed after the nationwide resistance movements that began in Gwangju in 1929, which led to the strengthening of military rule and an increased presence of troops all over Korea. The carrot they offered left much to be desired and the stick was a big stick.

The increasing number of Japanese shops and restaurants popping up around town, the Japanese newspapers that were beginning to outnumber Korean ones, builbae, who were collaborators with the Japanese, filling up positions on the education board, the trend that started with the upper middle class where Koreans took on Japanese names to increase their employment prospects horrified and incensed him. Whenever he walked the streets of his hometown he was reminded of how different it used to be back then.

He couldn’t do anything about it, however. He could not confront his oppressors directly and now more than ever, it seemed that his beloved country was going to be swallowed and devoured completely in the insatiable jaws of Japanese imperialism. That his people had been beaten so much that they seemed passive, almost accepting of the regime, made him want to take action, to do more than what he was doing now.

He eyed an assortment of carrots. The price was reduced to half. He considered for a bit before wandering off to the other stands. The offerings left much to be desired, but the end of the day also meant that vendors were slashing prices, desperate to have all their produce sold.

He counted out the required amount of Korean yen, the Japanese issued currency, with twisted lips in exchange for a mediocre array of wilted produce, and tried to block out the whispers and ignore the curious eyes of the vendors and shoppers around him.

He loathed going to the market too. What pained him the most was not that he had to deny the relationship between him and parents or that he was often treated as a stranger in Busan, his hometown, but that many citizens seemed to think he was cozying up to the Japanese because of his line of work.

He was a sculptor. Each day, he worked endlessly in his studio, creating marbled specimens of perfection. His gentle, calloused hands would artfully guide his chisel and then they would run over the white, unblemished bodies of his creations. He loved the feel of marble underneath his fingertips, loved seeing the first inklings of a body or a face he was freeing from stone, loved seeing his own movement being imparted on the marble that, once finished, seemed to come alive.

What he loved most, however, was the way the marble powder would cover his bare torso as he chiselled, clinging on to the light sheen of sweat produced after a hard day’s work. The powder on his body covered up his horrible scars and made him feel like one of his beautiful statues. He was content with his uneventful life that he preferred to label as humdrum, alone with his creations in his apartment.

When he returned home, it was already dark. He set his groceries on the dinner table and frowned at the flickering kitchen light when he heard a shuffle and the distinctive clacking noise of military boots in the studio room. He whipped his head to the curtained doorway to the studio. A wavering golden light escaped through the ends of the curtains that didn’t quite reach the floor.

He froze, heart wrenching with dread. His nails dug crescents into his palms. His breathing came out in rasps and he frantically smothered his face with his sleeve to muffle the sound. His gut twisted in fear. The adrenaline rush made him queasy and he debated between bolting and running away as fast as he could or staying and hoping that whoever was in there didn’t find anything that could incriminate him.

His hands shook as he was assaulted with the vivid memory of coming home to find soldiers in his apartment six years ago. He caught a whiff of the smoky, oily smell of a burning candle and fought hard to quell his instincts which were screaming at him to flee.

His blood ran cold when he heard the footsteps stop, but he relaxed slightly when he heard more movement. He padded closer to the studio, trying to discern how many men were in there. He fidgeted silently before taking tentative more steps towards his studio, his cloth shoes making soft thuds against the floor. The shuffling noises stopped. He shakily lifted up his hand to part the curtains leading to his studio.

The room was dimly lit by a lone, stuttering candle on his messy desk, wax dripping on to his drawings and planning documents. He flinched slightly.

He strained to see in the room, ghosting his eyes over his sculptures and half-finished creations, trying to find the source of the noises from earlier, trying to pick out a live form among his unliving statues. He took a moment to appreciate the almost eerie picture—anatomy sticking out of unfinished blocks of marble, his sculptures creating willowy shadows that danced underneath the candle’s delicate flame—when he saw a form that was decidedly human and alive.

A flashlight clicked on and was shoved in his direction. He recoiled. Blinking rapidly, he covered his face. The glaring light disappeared from the tiny spaces between his meshed fingers and he slowly lowered his trembling hands. The figure in the room stepped out of the shadows. His breath hitched.

He thought he had already bore witness to the finest forms of human beauty in textbooks that depicted the works of Michelangelo and Botticelli, in the kisaeng he would see when he passed courtesan houses in the city, and in his own works. But this man still took his breath away.

His boots were dark, polished, and shuffling slightly, as if he was nervous. Olive trousers wrapped around a pair of lithe looking legs. He was well-built and toned. The handle of a gun glared out threateningly out of a leather holster. A small array of medals and honours hung on the lapel of his olive tunic-collared uniform that was ironed to perfection. The uniform stretched a bit around the man’s broad shoulders. A stiff collar gave way to tanned skin, a bobbing Adam’s apple, and a sharp jawline. He drank in the sight of plush beestung lips, a strong, chiselled nose, and a pair of dark, expressive eyes protected by two striking eyebrows, that were all nestled on the smooth, tanned planes of the man’s face.

He wanted nothing more than to run his hands over the man’s firm body, slowly disrobe the intruder, and run his hands over perfection. He wanted to brush the pads of his fingers against the radiant golden skin of the man’s face, and slowly comb his digits through the his dark silken hair.

He wanted to sculpt him, capture his otherworldly beauty into the finest marble he had, preserve the man, tame the officer into something he could look at without being reminded that the stranger was a monster wearing a uniform that he hated and feared. Suddenly remembering the situation, he snapped his mouth shut, noticing that it had been hanging open for who knew how long, and attempted to speak.

He choked on his saliva. He hacked for a while before abruptly stopping at the man’s judgmentally raised brow. “Can I help you? Sir?” he added hastily, speaking in his rusty, slightly subpar schoolboy Japanese, throwing himself down in a respectful bow. He allowed himself one last cough, muffled into his sleeve.

“Do you live here?” the man asked, gesturing at the statues, speaking confident and perfect Korean. The sculptor’s face lifted up in surprise. “Did you make these?” The man’s baritone voice was rich and soothing. His gentle voice was a stark contrast with that pressed uniform, which he had come to associate with violence and hate.

“Yes,” he replied, hating the way his voice wobbled slightly. Heat rose to his cheeks.

“You’re a sculptor?”

“Yes.” He studied the design on the man’s collar: two stars on a yellow insignia with three red stripes. He was a highly ranked officer, a rikugun chusa. A lieutenant colonel in the Imperial Japanese Army. The officer took a step towards him and he automatically shuffled back.

The man’s eyebrows darted up in surprise and he raised his arms in appeasement. “Relax, I don’t bite,” he chuckled.

 _No but you do other things._ He forced out a laugh.

“Your name?” the man asked, although it sounded more like an order.

“Oh Sehun,” he whispered.

The man hummed and he looked at Sehun closely. Then his soft lips spread out in a wide smile.

“I am Kai.”

 

~

This fic draws some inspiration from the Greek myth of Pygmalion and Galatea. Pygmalion was a sculptor who carved a woman out of ivory who was so beautiful that he fell in love with her. Later versions of the story state that he named her Galatea, pronounced Gala-tee-ah. He then wished for a bride in his statue’s likeness. Later, when he found that her lips were warm and that her ivory body had lost its hardness, he discovered that his wish was granted and that his Galatea had come to life.

Busan (부산) is a city in southeastern Korea. It’s a very old port city and in the late 1800s was actually the center for foreign trade and commerce, most of which was done with Japanese merchants after the Japan-Korea Treaty of 1876. Today, it is a major metropolitan, economic, and cultural center and the second most populous city in South Korea.

Japan ruled over Korea from 1910 to 1945. It began in 1876 with the signing of the Japan-Korea Treaty, which allowed the Japanese Meiji government to integrate political and economic aspects of Joseon Korea (1392-1897) into the Empire of Japan. Another Japan-Korea Treaty in 1905 turned the Korean Empire (1897-1910) into a Japanese protectorate. In 1910, Korea was annexed by another Japan-Korea Treaty. Allegiance was to the Empire of Japan and administration was done through the Governor-General of Korea, all of whom were Japanese.

Although Korea industrialized very quickly under the rule of Japan, which was by then pretty much the most developed country in Asia, there’s controversy over it as the Japanese used Korean industrialization for their own benefit. Koreans were also exploited in their own country. This can be seen in early initiatives such land reform, which was initially popular but then gave ownership solely to Japanese citizens or companies. In 1910, 8% of arable land was under Japanese control and in 1920, the figure had risen to 39%. By 1932, 52% of land was owned by the Japanese. Koreans were tenants and had to pay large portions of their crops as rent, causing widespread poverty.

Another controversial topic is the marginalization of Korean history and culture. Japanese anthropologists were sent to Korea, where they took photos of traditional Korean villages to advertise Korea as an underdeveloped nation. Korean participation in Shinto temples also became mandatory to support the Japanese in defense against China and the Soviet Union. Tens of thousands of cultural artifacts were stolen and sent to Japan. Only 2,600 of them were returned, once in 1965 and again in 2011. The South Korean government states that there are still 75,311 artifacts that were taken from Korea. Almost half of them are in Japan in museums or belonging to private collectors, while others are still in other countries such as the United States and France.

During the colonization period, the Korean public school curriculum emphasized assimilating students into the Japanese Empire. Schools mostly taught in a mix of Hanja, which are Chinese characters and Korean script. There were policies to promote Korean literature but they were reversed in 1938. In 1943, Korean language courses were nonexistent. There wasn’t strict censorship of the press but in 1940, Korean-language newspapers were prohibited from being published.

Although Koreans were initially banned from taking Japanese names, in 1939, an imperial decree forced Koreans to adopt Japanese surnames. I don’t know the extent to which the law was enforced and how many people actually ended up taking Japanese names but Sehun will remain an Oh. In 1940, more Koreans took Japanese surnames willingly, as they believed it would further their chances of success. I’ll probably talk about these things in greater detail when they come up later in the story.

A builbae (부일배) refers to someone who has collaborated with Japan. Collaborators with Japan are now referred to as chinilpa (친일파) but that term was coined in 1966.

The significance of the seaweed soup is to show that it was Sehun’s birthday in the flashback. It is a Korean birthday tradition.

[Here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ranks_of_the_Imperial_Japanese_Army) is the Wikipedia page for Japanese army ranks before and during WWII. I know absolutely nothing about army ranks, except from what I hear in Chinese dramas yeet. Kai’s a rikugun chusa. The rikugun part denotes that he’s in the army and the equivalent rank of chusa is a lieutenant colonel. He’s actually pretty highly ranked, oof.

 


	2. Apollo

There was a smart rap on the door of the apartment. Sehun jumped. His shadow bounced up too, almost comically.

“Chusa?” a voice called.

_ Another one? _ Sehun started shaking. 

Kai noticed his frightened eyes that were almost bulging with fear and frowned. “It’s my driver. I must go. It was a pleasure.” He pressed his white-gloved hand to the candle before he stomped out, plunging the room into darkness. 

Sehun stood there, breathing unevenly until he heard the apartment door shut and a pair of precise, military footsteps descending the stairs, afraid to move and wondering what the hell had just happened. His eyes slowly adjusted to the muted moonlight and the faint, tarnished copper of street lamps filtering into the room. He rushed to his statue of Pygmalion and Galatea, and shakily grasped the supple, marbled flesh of Galatea’s backside. He used his fingers to brush away some plaster powder that revealed a rectangular seam occupying the entirety of the statue’s back. Using his nails, he clawed at the seam and slowly eased a chunk of marble off from the statue.

His gun and his drawings were there, the ones that condemned the occupation and the Imperial Japanese Army. His posters too, the ones that contained neat Korean text urging citizens to fight against the occupiers and reminding Koreans of their rich heritage. He counted them and released his breath in a trembling sigh of relief. If Kai had found these, he would probably be dragged out of his home, publicly humiliated, and shot. 

His eyelids drooped down in respite and fatigue and he pressed his forehead against Galatea’s arm, appreciating the cooling effect the marble had on his hot skin. He stood up unsteadily and rolled up several of the posters, shoving them into his sleeves and buttoning the cuffs, and then folded some of his drawings neatly and put those in his trouser pockets. He walked to the window of his studio room and lifted the edge of the lacy curtains, scanning the dimly lit street outside for any soldiers. 

There were none, and at this hour, they would most likely be drinking in bars or feasting away in restaurants. He padded back to Galatea, and grabbed his pistol, shoving it in the waistband of his trousers that were beginning to get a little big on him. The presence of the gun made for a more snug fit. He turned off his kitchen light before rushing out the door. 

He hurriedly ran down the stairs and navigated the shadows of the streets, making his way eventually to a what a decade ago had been an affluent residential district for the yangban, the upper class. Now it was an abandoned suburban area with no street lamps to light his way but he knew the place well. 

He approached a derelict house that was once in pristine condition. He gingerly opened the door and tried to see in the muffled darkness of the room. The grating sound of a match being struck was heard and he quickly twisted his head towards the noise. In the flimsy flame, a boy’s face appeared. 

Sehun broke into a relieved smile.  _ Luhan. _

Luhan edged the match to the tip of a candle and within moments, more of the room was visible, basked in a warm glow. He pushed the candle to the middle of a small decorative table, not wanting an accident to set the clay and masonry floor, which was covered with oiled paper, on fire. “Are you alright Sehun? You look pale.”

Sehun shook his head. “I’m fine, ge,” Sehun assured his friend, grasping the elder’s hands warmly before pulling the friend he considered a brother into a fierce hug. 

“Are you sure? You’re shaking.” 

Sehun let out a shuddering breath. “I-I found one of them in my house today.”

Luhan’s eyes widened. “Are you alright?” he whispered worriedly. “Did he… do anything? Did he find anything?”

Sehun shook his head firmly. “I brought the posters,” he said, unbuttoning his cuffs and sliding the rolled up pieces of illegal propaganda out. “Where are we plastering these?”

Luhan pulled Sehun to the ornate table in the corner and placed his candle in a holder. He pulled a wadded up map out of his sleeve and spread it out. The map belonged to Sehun’s parents and was drawn on silk. It was dotted with strategic splotches of blue, yellow, and red paint that told the locations of targets for resistance, safe houses, and barracks and Japanese military buildings respectively. Even though the markings were largely outdated and inaccurate, it was their best shot. 

Following the flight of his parents from Busan a decade ago and the execution of prominent members, the Busan Resistance had fragmented and largely died down. Sehun only knew of him and Luhan engaging in illicit activity as well as another radical group that many accepted to be the official Resistance. Although he and Luhan were not very impressed by the initiatives of the other group as they often engaged in violent and rash maneuvers that often ended with innocent citizens being shot by the Japanese in retaliation, Sehun couldn’t deny that he felt a tiny spark of admiration for the official Resistance. Radical as the groups was, it still took a lot of courage to plant land mines on Japanese transport routes or to blow up nearby munitions factories.

He sometimes wondered if he and Luhan were doing enough. He felt as if they were fighting against an almost unstoppable foe. Sehun made artwork that he and Luhan distributed all over town on weekends, when the curfew was more relaxed. They had started two years ago when Luhan, who was a medical student unable to find work due to his ethnicity, got a secretarial post in a hospital. He saw patients with injuries caused by the Japanese who were unable to receive proper treatment because the hospital was underfunded and most medical supplies and equipment were taken by the Japanese. Luhan had wanted to run an underground clinic but it was too difficult and risky to set up. So they found another way of resisting.

Sehun’s posters were filled with rousing images of Korean monarchs and military leaders, landscape drawings that showcased the splendor of the mountains of Busan and the beauty of Jeju Island. 

He and Luhan wanted to remind the people about their history and to hold on to their cultural and ethnic identity which it seemed the Japanese were determined to snuff out. It was an ambitious dream and an important one but he wasn’t sure if his posters were enough. They could only put them up at night, where many people were not out to begin with, and most of them would be torn down by the morning by patrols. He had been excited initially about the artwork, and still very much was, but he wanted to make a noticeable difference in the city. There was a part of him that wanted to fight back for real. 

But there was nothing else he could do. Making posters and drawings was the only thing he could do and he held on to it, determined to do his part and to feel useful. And just a little bit brave.

Luhan placed a finger on a district of Busan that was relatively unmarked by blue dots and free of any red dots. “We haven’t put things in this area as of yet and there shouldn’t be many military buildings here either. You may run into some soldiers though. There are a bunch of restaurants and bars clumped in this area and you know how they are. Stick to the shadows and the alleyways and you should be fine,” Luhan instructed. “Do you have your gun?”

Sehun nodded. “Where will you be?” 

“I’ll be in the courtesan district,” Luhan said, waving his hands over an area free of blue dots but containing several red dots. “There will be a lot of young people in the area and hopefully they’ll see the posters.”

“Be careful, Luhan,” Sehun whispered. There were a lot of soldiers present in the courtesan district.

Luhan waved casually, dismissing the worry. “I’ll be fine.”

The two looked at each other and Sehun felt emotions well up inside him. His eyes stung. Moments like these terrified Sehun. The chances of getting caught and the chances that they would never see each other were very high. Chances that they would be brutally tortured for information and then publicly executed was practically a guarantee should they fall into their oppressors’ hands. Luhan wrapped him in a hug and blew out the candle before quickly exiting the house, leaving Sehun in the dark. 

He always waited for a couple of minutes before leaving. He walked quickly, creeping in the shadows of trees until he reached a modern district that was alive with lights pooling out of restaurants, flashing neon signs outside bars, and groups of people chattering, smoking, and laughing outside these establishments. He looked for spots to put up the posters and loitered, waiting until the amount of people outside subsided before quickly plastering a poster of sword dancers and drummers engaged in seungjeonmu, a traditional dance to wish for and to celebrate victory that had once been performed for Admiral Yi Sun-sin on a wall. He tiptoed around the area, clinging to alleyways as Luhan had instructed, and stuck the rest of his posters up. He took the drawings he had folded out from his pockets and put them by the steps of the entrances to restaurants that he knew would be frequented by Koreans and not the Japanese. 

As the finished the last of his lot, he made his way back home, a tired but happy smile on his face. The posters would most likely be shredded by tomorrow morning but Sehun didn’t care; he was proud to be doing something. 

~

Sehun woke with a start, his slumber interrupted by a loud rapping sound. He forced his eyes open, grimacing at the bright morning light invading his room. He had fallen asleep immediately after washing last night and his pillow and the hair on the base of his head were uncomfortably damp. He stood by the window for a while, letting the sun warm and dry his hair, ignoring the way the knocking sounds increased in volume and frequency, thinking it was just his landlord, who was a rather tame builbae. Sehun wasn’t too intimidated by his aging landlord; the man was all bark and no bite and Sehun always paid his rent on time. He quickly shoved on a shirt and pants before making his way to the front door.

Sehun opened the door with a bored look and then instantly scrambled back, eyes wide, before straightening awkwardly. He forced himself into a bow, bristling internally when Kai did not grant him the same respect. 

“Can I help you, lieutenant?” Sehun inquired nervously. 

The man had his officer’s trousers and leather boots on, but had shed his military jacket, opting instead to wear a crisp cotton shirt in its place, the type that he would normally be wearing underneath his uniform. It was a humid day, and the shirt had become a bit damp, affording Sehun a view of his muscled tan chest. Sehun’s throat became dry. Kai wasn’t wearing gloves today, and Sehun stared at the man’s long, elegant fingers and strong hands, transfixed. 

Sehun swallowed, trying to suppress his thoughts while at the same time trying to pacify the guilt and shame flooding his system. 

The sight of the lieutenant, especially this close, reminded him of the strange feelings that welled up inside him yesterday. There was something about Kai that jarred on Sehun’s nerves, yet he could not deny that he felt an irresistible pull to this man, that he was not frightened by his presence as he would be with other soldiers.

How could he see the enemy in such a way? 

He didn’t expect Kai to be back so soon. He stood there silently. 

The blood drained from his face. Kai hadn’t seen anything, had he?

“May I come in?” 

Sehun snapped to his senses. “Y-yes, of course, lieutenant.” Sehun moved aside. Kai advanced towards his living room. It wasn’t much, just three old chairs and a scratched up coffee table. Kai made his way to one of the chairs and sat down like a king, somehow managing to look dignified in his shabby surroundings. “C-can I offer you a-anything to drink, sir?” 

“Tea is fine.”

Sehun quickly shuffled away into the kitchen. He felt Kai’s eyes on him and his breathing turned ragged. He brought over a teapot and two cups. He poured a cup for Kai, then one for him, sat down, and waited for Kai to raise the cup to his lips before taking a sip of his own tea. 

Kai set his cup down after draining it and Sehun quickly refilled it. Kai looked at Sehun calmly and the latter felt anxious and taut under his piercing gaze. 

Kai cocked his head. “So why were you in such a rush last evening?” 

Sehun’s heart stopped. “I… I beg your pardon?” he whispered. 

“As my car was driving away,” the lieutenant clarified. “I saw you running on the street. You were almost as fast as my car.”

Sehun’s mind scrambled for reasons. His guest didn’t say anything, just continued to look at him. “It’s just that… I wasn’t given all of my change at the market yesterday—”

Kai laughed. “Relax. I won’t tell if you don’t.” He picked up his newly filled cup of tea and sipped it.

Sehun gulped, arms automatically going down to grip the hem of his shirt tightly. “D-don’t tell what?”

Kai leaned forward and Sehun quickly leaned back, trying to maintain the distance between them. Kai frowned lightly before shifting back a little. “So. Did you get the money back?”

“Huh?”

“You said you had to go to the market,” Kai reminded him. “For your change.”

“Ah right,” Sehun muttered. He hoped he wasn’t going to be asked to bring out the nonexistent change. “No. The market was closing up by the time I arrived anway. I knew it wasn’t worth it to try and haggle.”

Kai shrugged and sipped his tea. “Every little bit counts,” he said, jerking his chin at the sparse furnishings.

Sehun chomped down on the inside of his cheek, fighting to contain his anger. Was the man really making a jab at his rather impoverished living conditions? It was his fault that Sehun had to live like this, it was the Japanese who took Korean land and industry for their own imperialist needs, it was Kai’s people who plundered his people’s heritage and history, it was his fault that Sehun still sometimes woke up shaking and in pain from nightmares in the middle of the night and imagined that his apartment was burning. 

“Not that I thought it would matter much for you,” Kai continued.

“W-what do you mean?” 

“You can obviously afford to live in a decent part of town. You have a fairly large apartment with a studio filled with unsold works. How do you manage to pay rent?”

Sehun looked at him, aghast. How rude. Rent  _ was _ expensive, though. For that, he guiltily tapped into the money his parents left behind as he had no other choice, and covered the rest of his expenses with his earnings. “Are you always so direct?”

“Do your kitsune statues cover the rent? You are quite well known among the… uh,” he trailed off uncomfortably. “Among my associates for your work.”

Sehun shrugged. “The pay is alright. Better than nothing.”

Kai laughed then sobered up. “Is it worth the gossip?”

“What?”

“Your countrymen think that you’re very… close to the occupation—”

“I’m not,” Sehun stated loudly. He remained mute for a while, knowing his company would not take a nationalistic declaration of Korean independence very well. “I’m just a sculptor. I… love my country,” he said quietly, treading carefully. “I don’t think government work is for me.”

“Hm. Why do they still say that?”

Sehun stared. “I’m not close to the occupation.” He was going to point at Kai’s uniform but then realized that he was not wearing it. “I mean, you’re part of it. Shouldn’t you know?”

Kai’s mouth twitched.

“It’s probably because of my clients.” Sehun pursed his lips. The economy was not faring particularly well, even after the brunt of the Great Depression had passed. The war the Japanese were waging in China was intensifying by the day; it was morphing into total war, not an easy victory as the Japanese had initially believed and this meant that Japan and all its colonies were going to mobilized for war. Art was the least of people’s worries and barely anyone had the money or time to appreciate art anymore. 

Still, there were a few who could afford to do so. The bulk of his income came from the the Shinto temples the Japanese set up. He carved the kitsune statues that many of these temples placed outside the entrances to inari shrines, as well as other ornamentations. His other customers were the builbae who had taken over the upper class. They requested fairly outlandish subject matter that they knew would please the Japanese. Sehun detested carving such things but the flamboyance of the requests meant that he could charge equally absurd prices, and he needed a decent income to live and indulge his hobby, which sapped much of his earnings. He supposed that he could indulge himself in better furniture or richer food, but he didn’t see the point. He lived for his art, and marble was expensive.

He loved Greco-Roman mythology and spent the duration of his days turning lore into living stone. He longed to undertake a commission revolving around something he was passionate about and to have his works depicting antiquity placed in public for his countrymen to see. However, it was an unrealistic dream.

He had been ordered by the government that he was only to sell works that were more in tune with Japanese history and culture. The occupation wanted to propagate their own ideals in Korea and had been trying to do so for practically half a decade, since Qing dynasty China was defeated by the Japanese in the First Sino-Japanese War. The local government was not exactly comfortable with Sehun’s preferred subject matter, but as long as he didn’t sell them and continued taking commissions from temples and builbae, they afforded him a long leash.

“So you’re a sculptor.” 

“Yes.” 

“You… sculpt things.”

Sehun raised a brow. “Yeah?” 

“Can you—” Kai paused as if carefully considering his next words and looked down. When he lifted his eyes to meet Sehun’s again, they looked open, clear, and almost vulnerable. He cleared his throat quietly. “Could you sculpt… something for me?” 

Sehun stared at him, flabbergasted and distrustful. “Huh?”

Kai leaned back on the rickety chair, confident once more. “Can you make a sculpture for me?” he asked once again, tone even, although his voice was still hushed. 

Sehun stared at him some more. 

Kai suddenly looked uncertain, and the expression seemed so out of place on his handsome, confident face that Sehun wanted to laugh. “If you’re too busy or—”

“No.”

“What?”

“I…” Sehun took a deep breath. “I can sculpt something for you.” 

Kai broke into a smile. 

Sehun nodded awkwardly, not knowing what else to say. He turned his head away, hating the way Kai’s beaming face made him feel. Sehun hated the way Kai made him feel in general. He detested him, detested his Japanese heritage and his allegiance to the Empire of Japan. He wanted nothing more than to shoot the lieutenant, yet even in the privacy of his mind, there was something holding him back. 

The sculptor in him wouldn’t allow it. The artist in him was drawn to his breathtaking beauty. And the man in him, the carnal and emotional sides of his character… something in him changed last night, when he saw Kai. 

“W-what do you want me to sculpt, lieutenant?” Sehun asked, the uncomfortable silence forcing him to speak. 

Kai’s mouth twisted in thought. “I was hoping to look a little longer in your studio, maybe decide after.”

Sehun bit his lip. He turned away and Kai followed him to his studio room. Sehun went to part the curtains, flooding the room with natural light. He turned from the window to survey the room and a proud, serene smile broke his lips. 

The sunlight poured into the room, unperturbed by dustings of marble upon the window panes. The polished marble of his statues gleamed in the light, the ripples of flowy clothing and muscled backs more evident during the day. The sun’s rays seemed to almost caress his works, bringing out the contours of Artemis’ face, passing through the thin marble leaves of an olive branch held up by Athena, making the leaves look almost transparent. The shimmering of the marble seemed to evoke a new layer of motion, of life, in his statues.

His gaze drifted to a dying Achilles, a snapshot of the moment he fell. The light pouring in from the windows scattered on the surface of the rock, creating a translucency akin to human skin. The hero’s face was contorted in pain, the muscles of his body were clenched. Yet even as he struggled on his arms, dying, there was a spark of defiance and courage in his eyes. Sehun looked hard at the stone face. How he wished to be brave and heroic. 

Pygmalion, who he had carved kneeling in front of Galatea, was already life-like in his anatomical accuracy and facial expression, but the sun seemed to add another sheet of depth and emotion in the figure. His statues were beautiful and looking at them brought a calming peace to Sehun’s heart, made him momentarily forget that he was hideous.

But as always, after staring at his works for awhile, he would be reminded of the stark contrast between the physicalities of himself and his statues, of the grand difference between his hidden scars and their smooth, shining skin, between the heroism that these figures represented and how what he did paled greatly in comparison. His arms wrapped around himself protectively.

He saw Kai intently studying his works and walked towards an unfinished work that aimed to depict the abduction of Persephone by Hades, on the opposite side of the room from Pygmalion and Galatea, hoping to lure Kai away from the sculpture containing his hidden posters and weapon. Kai wasn’t having any of that though. He turned his head to the statue in question, and slowly walked towards the couple. 

“Pygmalion and Galatea,” Kai whispered almost reverently, reaching out a finger to graze Galatea’s arm. 

Sehun’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. By the late 1920s, Japan had become very nationalistic, shunning any Western influence. Sehun was shocked that Kai recognized the two so quickly and easily. Sehun was determined that Kai did not observe the work too closely, so he cleared his throat tersely. 

Kai turned around and Sehun stared.

The sun enhanced Kai’s beauty like it did to Sehun’s statues. Kai’s hair shone, and thimbles of light seemed to veil his head like a halo. The light hit his smooth forehead, highlighting his dark eyes, then trailed down the slope of his nose to play with his plush lips. In the sun, his well-defined torso was even more visible under the gauzy white shirt he wore. The man embodied a physical perfection Sehun yearned after.

“I don’t usually sculpt such things for clients,” Sehun explained, pointing at Pygmalion and Galatea. “I’m not really allowed to make them.”

“I heard. Why do you continue to sculpt such things if they never get sold?” 

“I like doing it. It’s soothing,” Sehun mused, “to look at beautiful things. That’s the purpose of art, isn’t it? It rests my soul and…”  _ It makes me feel beautiful too. _

“Huh. But why this stuff in particular? Mythology and such?”

“It saved my life,” Sehun whispered so quietly that he wasn’t even sure if Kai heard him. “It’s nice to know the stories behind these figures as well,” he added, worried that he’d said too much. “Sculpting them, seeing myth become reality. They seem to take on different characteristics in this medium. It’s very interesting.”

Kai smiled.

“Have you decided yet?” Sehun was anxious to get him out of his home. 

“Apollo. Could you sculpt Apollo?”

The Greco-Roman god of the sun, light, art, healing, prophecy, and manly beauty.  _ Manly beauty, _ Sehun thought. Seemed appropriate. Kai was certainly beautiful enough to have attracted the attention of Apollo. 

“W-when would you like it done?” 

“Take your time, there is no rush.”

Sehun nodded awkwardly and turned away again. “Is that it then?”

Kai gave him a nod and brusquely turned around to leave. Sehun padded after him. 

“I would like to pay you some more visits. Just to see how the statue is coming along, if you’ll agree to that.”

Sehun’s hands shook, and he nodded tentatively. 

Kai reached into his pocket and pushed a wad of yen into the sculptor’s hands. Sehun stiffened with disbelief. In his hand he held the equivalent of half a year’s worth of his usual earnings.

“L-lieutenant…?” Sehun rasped, dumbfounded.

“Please, call me Kai.”

“Um, this is too much…” Sehun babbled, trying to politely shove the bills back.

“There will be more the next time, when the statue is done,” Kai stated, walking over to the chair he had occupied earlier. He pick up his unfinished cup of tea and downed it. 

“I… thank you, lieutenant,” Sehun said in a rush, opening the door.

Kai gave him a tight smile and left. Sehun kept the door open, watching Kai swiftly descend the steps before closing it and running to his kitchen window. A black automobile was parked outside, a soldier waiting beside it, squinting due to the sun. The soldier smartly snapped to attention when he saw Kai, and held the car door open for the lieutenant before getting into the driver’s seat and driving off. 

Sehun knew he would now have to be more careful. He would probably have to find another hiding place in his home for his drawings and gun. He wondered how Kai could afford to pay him so much. He wondered where the money could have come from and how it came to be in Kai’s possession. The stack of bills in his hand suddenly felt very heavy, and he placed it on the dinner table before wandering away. 

He leaned on the windowsill, letting out a breath, wondering why he had agreed to the commission, why he had consented to more visits. Perhaps it was because the request was so out of the blue, or perhaps it was because that he wanted very much to see Kai again that pushed him to agree. Later that evening, when he was trying in vain to fall asleep, he would strictly tell himself that it was the former.

It had been so long since he had felt this kind of attraction to someone. Luhan was very easy on the eyes, good-looking enough to rival Kai, but he saw Luhan as an elder brother. Kai was like one of his beautiful statues come to life. The artist in him was drawn to a beauty the likes of which he’d never seen before. 

He was enchanted.

But he shouldn’t be. 

He sighed and walked back into his living room to collect the tea set when he saw it.

A familiar drawing lay on the chair Kai had sat in. It bore creases from being folded. It depicted a caricature of Yi Sun-sin stomping on a Japanese officer. There were Korean words at the bottom that read “Fight back against the Japanese invaders!” 

He took an abrupt step back and crashed into the coffee table. It was a drawing that he had put outside the night before. And now it was here, back in his apartment.

Kai knew.

~

Sehun spent the rest of the day in a panic. He decided to relieve his stress in his studio by working on his sculpture of the abduction of Persephone, but quickly backed out of that decision when he nearly scratched up Hades’ throat. Sehun ran his hand through his hair, and decided that the better course of action was to work on some more Resistance material. He cut the sheets of paper into smaller sizes for his drawings. He pictured himself tossing a bunch of these drawings up into the air at his arrest, which was no doubt due soon given what Kai seemed to know, and the image catalyzed a small burst of triumph that alleviated his worries somewhat. 

While sketching furiously, Sehun’s mind wandered to Kai. Had he seen Sehun yesterday? Or had he merely found it, carried it on his person with intentions to show it to his superiors, and then forgotten it in Sehun’s apartment? It wasn’t likely. The drawing had been carefully spread out from its once folded state and placed pointedly smack-dab in the middle of the chair Kai had sat on. 

What if Kai thought he was part of the official Resistance? Maybe he wanted to show the drawing to Sehun, ask him questions about it, ask him if he had anything to do with it, and demand for intelligence.  _ No chance of that. _ He’d rather die than divulge information to the Japanese. After all his parents had gone through in their involvement with the anti-Japanese movement in Korea, Sehun refused to do anything that would harm the state of the official Resistance even with all the damage it did. 

By the time the afternoon rolled around, he was exhausted, and decided to scout his apartment for a place to hide his stash of posters and his gun. He decided to hide the posters and drawings in a flat box in a small cabinet in his bedroom. His gun was shoved between his mattress and headboard. He got to work on an early dinner, knowing that he had to meet Luhan today. 

As he was preparing to leave his apartment, his eyes caught on the drawing that Kai had placed on the chair. It had fallen on the floor. He had decided to leave the drawing there along with the tea set, so that if Kai decided to storm his apartment tomorrow with a firing squad, he could try to get out of being caught by saying that he had forgotten to put the tea away and that did not see the drawing, and thus, that he had absolutely nothing to do with the Busan Resistance. He picked up the drawing and waved it slightly in the air in case it picked up bits of dust and suddenly stopped. 

There were words scrawled on the back. Messy Korean but ultimately legible. He didn’t write those words. Heart thudding, he went to turn on the light. 

_ I want to help. I won’t tell if you don’t. _

Sehun stood there for a full five minutes, in shock, before he coming to his senses. Were they the words of a fellow countryman who had picked up the drawing last night? What if this Korean had written the words and then somehow been captured? And now Kai and his men suspected Sehun? He felt more and more dizzy as he came up with more horrible scenarios. What if Kai wrote those words? Was that what he had been referring to when he’d said “I won’t tell if you don’t” earlier? That thought soothed him slightly, although it did nothing to diminish his confusion. He decided to shove the paper under his pillow before leaving. 

He took his usual route, hugging the shadows and entered the dilapidated house. He frowned worriedly upon discovering that Luhan, who was always there before him, was not there. He shuffled around nervously, breath hitching. Being in this house alone brought back unwanted memories. Just as he was beginning to get restless, the door burst open. Luhan ran in, out of breath. 

Sehun let out a relieved, shuddering sigh and ran to embrace him. Luhan hugged him back just as hard and due to the proximity, Sehun caught a whiff of cigarette smoke and… perfume? 

“Where were you, Luhan?” Sehun asked worriedly, his concern for his friend overriding his curiosity, as he pulled out some posters and drawings for Luhan.

Luhan ducked the question, opting instead to pull two envelopes from his pockets. He tossed one to Sehun and opened his own, spreading the map that was contained inside on the desk in the corner. 

Sehun looked at it curiously. It was a neatly printed map of Busan in great detail, and had dots of different colours scattered about like the map they used. “What’s this Luhan?”

“It’s an updated map of Japanese garrisons and officers’ homes in Busan,” Luhan spoke out in a rush. “It’s more detailed and more accurate than the silk one we have. With this, we’ll be less likely to run into soldiers and know where to put up posters so that they’ll stay up for a while before they get ripped down.”

Sehun nodded, eagerly pulling out his own map and studying it. Luhan ruffled around in his pockets for a while before coming up with a balled up piece of paper. He tossed it to Sehun. “This is a patrol schedule for the next couple of months. They don’t have the numbers to station their soldiers everywhere so they jump from district to district every couple of nights. We can target the areas where they aren’t present.”

Sehun nodded approvingly and examined the schedule intently, trying to commit it to memory. Luhan noticed this and said, “It’s fine, you can keep it.”

“But what about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Luhan said, turning for the door. He stopped as if remembering something and went to wrap Sehun into a hug. Sehun returned the action, resting his chin on Luhan’s shoulders.

“Be careful Luhan,” he murmured. “I don’t want to lose you too.”

Luhan nodded, casting a glance around the room of the ramshackle house they stood in. “See you.”

Sehun opened his mouth to speak, wanting to ask Luhan about the perfume but his ge, perhaps sensing the question, cut him off. “Sehun, I’m really sorry but… I don’t think I’ll be able to make it here the next couple of nights, so are you alright with doing this by yourself?” 

“Um.”

“Use the schedule and you’ll probably be twice as efficient because you won’t be needing to creep around anymore. I’m really sorry Sehun but, there’s this… thing I have to attend to. It’s for the benefit of the Resistance, so yeah.” Luhan stood there lamely, as if waiting for Sehun’s approval.

“That’s… good Luhan,” Sehun said hesitantly. Luhan, who was normally very blunt to the point of rudeness, was being very vague. He had noticed that his friend’s face seemed unusually pale but couldn’t tell very well in the candlelit room. He leaned closer. “Is that… are you wearing face powder?” 

Luhan’s hands clapped on his cheeks. “No,” he said quickly. 

Sehun squealed, momentarily forgetting the dire situation they were in, forgetting Kai, forgetting the events that occurred in the house they were standing in ten years ago and what the house had meant to him ten years ago. “Are you seeing someone?” Sehun asked Luhan, nudging him teasingly. The childish joy of badgering a friend who had a crush was one that never went away.

Luhan flushed. “Erm, something like that…?” His voice squeaked at the end. 

Sehun clapped his hands together delightedly and ruffled Luhan’s hair affectionately.

Luhan shuffled on his feet nervously. “Sehun, I have a favour to ask… Could you give me your gun?”

Sehun looked at him in surprise. “Of course. I hope you never have to use it, but here.” He pulled the gun out and held it, handle-out. Luhan was a bit braver than him, a bit more of a risk-taker. He wondered why Luhan suddenly asked for the gun but didn’t question it. 

“I… thank you, Sehun,” Luhan said in a rush. “I’ll try to return it as soon as possible but I just need to hold on to it for a bit.”

“No, you can keep it.” Sehun never had an opportunity to use his gun and was actually glad to see it gone. He didn’t think he’d be capable of shooting someone. It had actually been his parents’ and he and Luhan found it stashed with the cash they’d left behind. 

He gave Luhan one last hug before the elder left and spent his waiting time studying the map. The street names were in Japanese, which made it difficult for him to recognize which ones were which. He used his memory of the city, however, and was able to plan a route to an area free of garrisons and where the Japanese troops were not patrolling tonight. Feeling confident, he decided to leave. He arrived in the residential district quickly, thankful for not having to squeeze through seedy alleyways or take sketchy paths to get to his destination and put up the posters and distributed the drawings in record time. 

As he walked back towards his apartment, he caught the faint staccato clamour of marching boots. He must have taken a wrong turn. The uniform clattering sound of soles smashing the stone road sounded like resounding gunshots being fired out of a gun with a bottomless cartridge. He froze, memories assaulting his mind. 

_ His mother started shrieking, forgetting that she had a gun jammed against her temple. Her arms flailed as she struggled wildly in the grip of a soldier.  _

_ “Leave them alone! You can take me, take me, do whatever you want but please! Let my wife and my son go!” his father cried hoarsely. The men holding him cackled. One of the soldiers looked at Sehun, frozen in the doorway, before stalking up to the young boy and grabbing him roughly with a sneer. He screamed. _

_ Large hands seized his shoulders. The fingers jabbing into his skin felt like blades. He thrashed wildly, trying to escape the man’s grip, but he was trapped. Sehun screamed until he could taste blood, still trying to wrestle his way out. _

_ “Let my parents go!” he tried to yell, when the soldier holding him drove his knee into Sehun’s stomach. The boy bent over, wheezing. _

_ Then the first shot was fired. _

Sehun started shaking. The marching was becoming louder, the footsteps coming closer and he had nowhere to go. 

Then, suddenly, a pair of strong arms clamped around him and dragged him into the shadows. Sehun’s mouth opened in a scream but a firm hand clapped itself over his mouth. Head thrashing, Sehun began to struggle frantically, not caring if the soldiers marching past heard the scuffle. His arms writhed, trying in vain to weave through the caging limbs of his attacker. Pushing his jaws as far apart as possible in the vice-like grip of his attacker’s hand, he brought his teeth together with a smash, feeling victorious when he heard a muffled cry of pain.

“Stop that!” a voice hissed angrily. “Argh… Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”

Sehun’s head swam with shock. His body felt numb. 

He recognized that voice. 

_ Kai. _

 

~

Thanks for reading!!! I just want to clarify that while Apollo wasn’t the de facto deity of the sun, many Greeks did view him as the sun god. I also thought it a lovely segue from describing Kai in the sunlight. ;) 

Also, perhaps it’s redundant to say this but ge (gē, 哥) means elder brother in Chinese, and is a common and polite way to address your older brother or a guy older than you. 

Admiral Yi Sun-sin was a famous naval commander during the Imjin War and never lost a single battle or ship despite not having had any naval training. He became a national hero of Korea and remains so today. 

Seungjeonmu is a Korean court dance that is comprised of a sword dance and a drum dance, and is performed to wish for or to celebrate victory. Yi Sun-sin reportedly had his soldiers dance it before heading into naval battles, and it was also performed for him on many occasions. 

The First Sino-Japanese War last from July 1894 to April 1895. It was fought between Qing dynasty China and Japan under the reign of the Meiji Emperor for influence over Korea. Japan was technologically superior and enjoyed successes by the land and naval forces throughout the war. The Qing government sued for peace. The loss sparked many political and social changes not only in China such as the Xinhai Revolution, but in Korea and Asia as well. I will be discussing the impacts later when they’re more relevant.

 


	3. Slut

Sehun defeatedly ceased his actions and allowed his weight to droop on to his assailant, who grunted a bit while Sehun stood there in silence, apathetic and resigned. The two stood there, unmoving, until the soldiers left the boulevard. Kai immediately slackened his grip and stepped back. Sehun took deep gulping breaths.

“Are you alright?” Kai whispered, taking a tentative step back towards him.

“Ge-get away from me!” Sehun yelled. 

Kai frowned and stepped away, giving him space. 

Sehun shuddered and his eyes drooped. “What are you doing?” he whispered tiredly. “If this is a game for you, then be it, just kill me now.” 

Kai’s eyebrows furrowed even more. “Sehun, I meant what I wrote.” 

Sehun’s eyes narrowed. “And what did you write?”

Kai sighed. “You know what I wrote. I said that I would help. That I  _ want _ to help. And I meant it.”

Sehun legs felt weak and, although the lieutenant rushed towards him to offer support, he let himself drop on the ground. Kai knelt down beside him. 

“I hate you,” Sehun whispered. “I hate what you did to my country.”

Kai flinched and lowered his head. 

And then the tears came. Terrible, racking sobs that shook his entire body. Sehun tried to choke them back, mortified that he was bawling like a baby, but that action only caused his crying to intensify. 

Kai scooted to sit behind Sehun and placed his legs on either side of the weeping boy. His arms came up again more hesitantly, and this time, Sehun allowed himself to be engulfed in a tender embrace. He leaned his back on Kai’s chest, and let his head rest on Kai’s shoulder. 

In the cold stillness of evening, they sat there together, the dim, flickering street lamps casting a coppery sheen to their faces. One of Kai’s hands came up to gently swipe away the tears on Sehun’s face with the soft pads of his fingers. 

Sehun shook his head. “Why are you doing this?” he whispered again.

Kai chuckled lightly, the action sending tremors into Sehun’s body. “I’m wiping your face because it’s kind of snotty,” he teased. 

Sehun couldn’t help himself. He giggled, then quickly sobered up. “You could get killed.”

Kai shrugged gently, not wanting to jostle Sehun. “So could you.”

“I could get killed regardless. You know what your soldiers do to us.” 

Kai rested his head against Sehun’s, whose rear was beginning to feel a bit sore and chilled on the ground, but the warmth of Kai’s hold remedied that. Sehun felt a deep disdain with himself for cuddling with Kai, the enemy, and enjoying it no less, but he didn’t want to leave the man’s grasp. 

Was Kai the enemy? 

“Why would you want to help us—uh, I mean me?” Sehun mentally berated himself. He didn’t want to drag Luhan into this. 

“When did you start working for the Resistance?”

Sehun shrugged. “I’ve been doing it for awhile. ”

Kai hummed.

“Where did you learn Korean?”

“My mother was Korean,” Kai said. 

“Oh. Where is she now?” 

There was a pause. Sehun felt Kai tense. “She’s dead. Both of my parents are dead,” Kai said emotionlessly. His grip tightened a bit. 

Sehun lifted his head and turned around. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he meant it. He knew what it was like to lose family. 

Kai shook his head, refusing to make eye contact. 

“When did you come to Busan?” Sehun asked, wanting to change the subject.

“A little over a year ago. In June of 1939.”

So Kai hadn’t been in Busan for very long; perhaps that was why Sehun had never seen him before until yesterday. The officer looked quite young too, and Sehun imagined that he couldn’t have been in the army for very long. Kai’s rank as a lieutenant colonel seemed substantial however, and Sehun wondered what he had done to earn it. 

“You ask many questions.”

Sehun realized that he was snuggling back into Kai’s embrace. He leapt up, suddenly, leaving Kai surprised on the ground. “I don’t trust you,” he said coldly. 

Kai got up too, slowly. “I know, and I understand that. But I… I meant it when I said that I would help.” 

“Why won’t you tell me why?”

Kai shook his head. “What do I have to do to prove myself?” 

He paused. “I want a gun.” 

Kai raised an eyebrow. “Okay. That was easier than I expected. What type of gun do you want?” Kai asked, bobbing on his heels slightly, his hands clasped behind his back. 

“Anything that works is fine, I guess.” 

“What? Sehun, having the right gun is important. How big are your hands? What’s the most you can lift? The weapon picks you, you know.” He looked ready to spring into a passionate rant, and suddenly, Sehun felt like they were two schoolboys talking about boyish things like guns. 

As much as he wanted to see Kai’s face light up with enthusiasm, he unfortunately didn’t have time for that. He wanted to go home and sleep. It was also disconcerting to talk about guns with a man who belonged to a group of people who had used these weapons against his people, his family, and him without thought and mercy. 

“You can pick for me,” Sehun said curtly. It came out harsher than he intended and he softened the blow with a shy smile.

“Well, bye then.” Kai shoved his hands into his pockets, kicking a pebble lightly with his foot. It made for an oddly sentimental scene, as if they were lovers shyly bidding each other farewell. 

Sehun nodded again, unsure of what to say. “Bye,” he eventually said. 

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?” Kai asked as he began to walk away.

“Um. Okay.”

Kai nodded and the two parted in opposite directions. Sehun was terribly tempted to turn his head to see Kai walking away but managed to restrain himself. 

He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t have any reason to refuse Kai’s help, especially when the man had already proved himself on several occasions: not telling his superiors about Sehun’s involvement with the Resistance when he had found the drawing, pulling him out of sight of the patrolling soldiers, agreeing to find him a gun. 

He shook his head, and before he could control himself, a goofy grin broke his lips. Maybe it was the excitement of the first client whose commission he would actually enjoy fulfilling, maybe it was because he had never carved Apollo before and was very eager to do so, or maybe it was because he imperceptibly wanted to see Kai again, but he was really looking forward to tomorrow. 

~

Kai did not show up the next morning. 

Sehun waited eagerly for his arrival, having gotten up early to sketch out some possible portrayals of Apollo and found himself fidgeting with anticipation as he listened intently in his studio for the sound of boots trooping up the stairs or the sound of knuckles rapping on his door. The only sound he was greeted with all morning, however, was the lighthearted chirping of birds. He normally found the birds quite pleasing. But today it seemed like they were mocking him. 

By the time afternoon rolled around, Sehun got tired of waiting and went to work on his Persephone and Hades, spending the rest of the afternoon chiseling and adding details to Hades’ chest. The August day was scorching and the abundance of sunlight that poured into his studio room made working in his shirt stifling and unbearable. Fairly certain that Kai was not going to show, Sehun took his shirt off, exposing his pale flesh to his statues. 

He couldn’t help himself and looked down at his chest. The scarred words were still there. The gnarled, pinkish tissue stood out starkly against the milky whiteness of his pearly skin. During the past couple of days, which had been a confusing, hellish whirlwind, he had almost forgotten about his imperfections, caught up in the excitement. But as he was shaping Hades, he was once again acutely aware of the difference in the physicalities of himself and his creations. 

His shoulders slumped. Gritting his teeth, he picked up his tools again and began hammering away, relishing in the way the marble dust would adhere to his perspiring body. He was out of breath and his arms felt sore by the time evening fell. He was almost finished Hades. He planned to add the finishing touches to Persephone’s face tomorrow. 

He ruffled his hair slightly to shake out the dust clinging to his glossy locks. The last bands of sunshine crept into the room, and reflected off the polished surfaces of his statues to light up the studio in a haze of vermilion and ochre. The statues sparkled slightly. Sehun looked at himself. The dust shimmered, and the effect, combined with the generous film of marble on his body, effectively hid his scars. He stood there in the golden rays of dusk, breathing and coughing slightly, and felt at peace with the world. 

Smiling slightly that he wasn’t as upset about Kai not showing up anymore, he headed for the kitchen to grab a drink. The rest of the apartment was dimly lit by the setting sun that could be seen through the windows. His door creaked open. He stilled, shaking yet frozen, as he stared at his front door.

A head poked in. It was Kai. Seeing Sehun, he opened the door completely and let himself in. As he walked closer to the half-naked boy, he stopped in shock. 

Sehun flinched, face twisting grotesquely. Kai had seen the scars. Horrified, he covered himself with his arms and looked around frantically for a place to hide. He fled into his studio room, choking back tears and curling on to the ground when he heard Kai’s frenzied footsteps coming closer to him and Kai’s voice calling out his name. 

“Leave me alone!” Sehun sobbed. 

“Sehun?” Kai emerged through the curtains of the studio room door. “Sehun, are you alright?”

Sehun was suddenly furious. “No I am not alright!” he screamed. “I saw the way you looked at me! Just leave me alone, please leave me alone…” his voice trailed off in a whimper as he cradled his head in his arms.

Kai stepped towards him. “What are you talking about?” He slid his hand around one of Sehun’s wrists and attempted to pull the boy up. Sehun refused to budge and snatched his wrist back.

Kai got up and shuffled around. Sehun felt Kai drape a piece of fabric over his back and Sehun quickly put his shirt on, fastening the buttons with shaky fingers. “Am I so hideous that you can’t even bear to look at me without having it covered up?” Sehun sniffled and brought his red, angry eyes to meet Kai’s. 

Kai looked surprised. “I don’t think you’re hideous, Sehun. What would you be covering up?”

Sehun got up. “Don’t pretend that you didn’t see my scar! I saw the look on your face!” he yelled bitterly. 

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, Sehun,” Kai stated, starting to look a bit annoyed. 

Sehun snapped. He grabbed his shirt and ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere. “This! This is what your people do! This is what they did to me!” His voice broke at the end and he wanted to cover his now blotchy face and hide away somewhere alone, but Kai wouldn’t allow that. His strong hands grasped Sehun’s wrists, which were closing in on his chest, ready to cover himself up again, pulling Sehun’s arms apart, and stared at the scars. 

ふしだらな女.

_ Slut. _

Kai stared at the jagged words carved by a knife on Sehun’s chest, face going white with shock, his lips quivering with anger. They were in his mother tongue. Sehun struggled frantically against Kai’s hands, feeling exposed as Kai’s eyes bored holes into his chest.

“Let me go!” Sehun roared, screaming when Kai tightened his fingers on his wrists. 

“Who did this?” Kai whispered darkly.

“Your people did, Kai, and you know it,” Sehun snapped back bitingly. Kai lowered his head and released Sehun from his grip. Sehun withdrew from Kai and rubbed his wrists, wincing. Kai noticed this and his face crumpled. 

“Sehun, I hurt you,” Kai mumbled. “Sehun, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

Sehun shook his head.

“When did they do that?” 

Sehun kept mum. 

“When did that happen, Sehun?” Kai asked, more firmly now. 

“Why do you care?” Sehun demanded angrily. He grabbed the sides of his torn shirt and wrapped it around himself. 

Kai went over to him and clasped his cold hands in a warm grasp. “I’m not like the rest of them, Sehun, I promise. I know you don’t trust me, but please believe me when I say that I care about you.” 

Sehun sniffled. Kai gave a sigh and wrapped his arms around Sehun, leaning into the hug. He sat down on the studio floor, gently pulling Sehun to sit down with him. Sehun adjusted himself so that they were in the same position as last night, his back leaning on Kai’s chest, Kai pressing his chest on Sehun’s back slightly to maintain balance. Sehun felt warm and cozy and safe.

They sat there, breathing in the scent of each other, before Sehun started to talk. 

“My parents worked for the Resistance,” Sehun whispered, knowing it was foolish to trust Kai with this information but doing it regardless. “In fact, they helped found the one in Busan. There was a student movement that started in Gwangju in 1929, and spread to all over Korea.” Sehun paused. “My parents played a big part in the riots in Busan. The Japanese didn’t like that so in 1930, when I was nine, we fled to Seoul. Seoul was bigger than Busan, and it was easier to hide there.” 

The sun was beginning to set. 

Sehun swallowed. “Eventually, the Japanese managed to track down where we were living in Seoul and in 1934, they came to our house one evening and th-they killed my parents and…” Sehun trailed off. “They raped me,” Sehun whispered hauntingly. “It was my birthday. I had just turned thirteen.”

Kai stilled around him for a moment and then buried his head into Sehun’s shoulders. His arms squeezed around Sehun briefly, reassuringly, before he said, voice thick with emotion, “I’m sorry, Sehun, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.” 

Sehun shook his head, fighting back tears. “They raped me a-and then c-carved up my chest and called me a whore and a slut. Then they left the apartment and set fire to it with my parents’ bodies still inside.” 

Kai’s body tensed and his breath came out unsteadily.

“The fire spread to the whole building.” Sehun squeezed his eyes shut as he remembered how the flames on the floor climbed up to engulf tablecloth and how the columns of heat had quickly reached the ceiling and the way the frosting on the pretty blue and white cake turned to translucent liquid before the whole cake was eaten up by the flames. The sound of the screams of the other residents as the fire spread from his apartment to the one above and below, and to the rest of the floor after the soldiers left, leaving the door open behind them, echoed in his ear. He remembered Luhan, who had apparently lived on their floor and who was still a stranger back then, hearing his cries and braving the flames in the apartment to rescue Sehun. He had screamed and recoiled away from Luhan when the elder reached down to carry him out. He started shaking, unable to escape the memories until he felt the soft murmur of Kai’s voice in his ear.

He brushed away the tears on Sehun’s face. 

“Don’t leave me, Kai,” the crying boy pleaded weakly. “Stay with me…”

Kai smiled softly through his own tears. “I promise.”

 

~

Thank you for all the lovely comments! <3 They were so heartwarming and I genuinely enjoyed reading them. Look forward to more of Sehun’s backstory in the next few chapters and a bit of backstory from Kai as well!

 


	4. Romantic

Sehun woke up in his bed the next morning. He was still covered in rock dust. His face was slightly sticky with tears from the previous night and his eyes felt swollen. He stumbled into his bathroom for a washing. When he finished, he got out a change of clothes and nervously shuffled out of his bedroom. He didn’t know how to act now that Kai knew pretty much everything. He stopped in the doorway.

It was a domestic scene. Kai had removed his officer’s uniform, and the white shirt underneath had a red kimchi stain on the chest. He was carrying a plate of kimbap from the counter to the dinner table.

Burned rice assaulted Sehun’s sense of smell. He scrunched his nose. “Yah!”

Kai looked up abruptly. “Sehun.”

“How come you’re still here?”

He dodged the question. He pointed to the stack on the plate. “Look, I made kimbap.”

Sehun nodded appreciatively.

“My mom taught me how to make it. I burned the rice, sorry.”

Sehun smiled lightly and walked to the table, famished, having foregone dinner the night before. Kai went back to the kitchen counter and brought chopsticks, two bowls, and the jar of kimchi to the table. Kai sat down after Sehun did, and the latter did not know what to think of this situation. He was extremely bewildered with the turn of events of the past couple of days.

To go from finding Kai, who he initially viewed, and perhaps a bit even now, as the enemy, a lieutenant in the Imperial Japanese Army, the same group of people who had murdered his parents, to cuddling last night _and_ the night before and him telling Kai about his past, which he’d never done before with anyone except Luhan, was taking things a bit quick. And now the two were sat opposite each other at the dinner table, ready to share a meal together.

Kai used his chopsticks to place a piece of kimbap in Sehun’s bowl.

Sehun nodded his head in thanks. He gingerly put it in his mouth and immediately wanted to take it out. Kai’s hopeful face peering at him from across the table discouraged that though, and he forced himself to chew and swallow. Kai also raised a piece to is lips, but immediately spit it back into his bowl. Sehun laughed.

“Did you stay here all night?” Sehun asked curiously.

Kai nodded. “I slept on the floor.”

“Won’t you get into trouble with your superiors? You know, like if you don’t show up to wherever you guys work today?”

Kai shook his head as he gulped down some water. “They’re fairly lenient with me. Makes two of us, huh?”

Sehun grinned. “How did you get into my apartment the first night and yesterday?”

Kai shrugged. “I picked the lock the first night. I didn’t want to do that yesterday, but I knocked and you didn’t answer, so…” Kai reached for his uniform which was slung over the back of his chair. Sehun felt a slight pang of panic, thinking that Kai was about to leave. _Don’t leave me, Kai._ However, he merely went to search for something in the jacket’s pockets. He placed a gun on the table. “Here’s your gun.” He then placed a cloth bag on the table that tinkled slightly as the metallic contents inside shifted. “Bullets.”

Sehun smiled. “Thank you,” he said. The two continued to eat breakfast in comfortable silence. When they were done, Kai took the empty bowls to the sink, while Sehun sat and watched him. He remembered that he still had drawings to show Kai. He stood up and beckoned Kai into the studio. He followed curiously.

“I sketched out some possible renditions for your sculpture,” Sehun explained, leading Kai to his studio desk. He shyly spread out the drawings, which were done on the same paper he used for posters, for Kai’s scrutiny. Kai stepped closer to Sehun, resting his hands on the table, their shoulders touching. He gently traced the movement of pencil across the paper, smiling slightly.

“They’re very good, Sehun. Who taught you to sculpt?”

Sehun swallowed. “My father.”

Kai touched Sehun’s shoulder.

“He studied Korean and Asian art in university and became a sculptor. He used to work for Emperor Sunjong,” Sehun added with a touch of pride. “He taught me to sculpt when I was young.”

“Where did you learn to sculpt this stuff then? They’re not exactly examples of Korean sculpture.”

He shrugged. “I-I came across a book about the Italian Renaissance one day. It was after I came back to Busan after the incident.” Luhan had brought a book on the Renaissance back to the dingy hostel where they were staying in an attempt to cheer Sehun up. The book was all Luhan could afford and had been placed in the last sale bin of a nearby bookstore and Luhan had initially apologized for it, looking down at the floor and saying that he would try to get something better another day but Sehun had waved him off and stared at the book hungrily. On the cover was a picture of Michelangelo’s _David._ Sehun momentarily forgot about his parents’ deaths and his rape then, and studied the skill and beauty that the work embodied, transfixed. “I guess I like the Renaissance,” he told Kai. “The people in paintings and the sculptures… _especially_ the sculptures, they’re all so beautiful and perfect.”

“So you’re self-taught?” Kai looked shocked.

Sehun shrugged. “I guess. My dad taught me the basics of sculpture b-before…”

“Your works are definitely in the Renaissance style.”

Sehun made an inquiring noise.

“Your sculptures are all portrayals of classical antiquity, and many of your subjects are in a contrapposto pose.” The Italian word rolled easily off of Kai’s tongue. Sehun turned to him, surprised. Kai gestured to his statues. “The statues are all nude, of course, in emulation of Greek and Roman sculptures, and there is an acute dedication towards anatomical correctness. They all display a flawless restrained beauty, where the parts are subordinate towards the whole in achieving aesthetics.”

Sehun gaped. He was impressed.

Kai strode around the room, stopping in front of Persephone and Hades. “Not this one though. The movement and the struggle you’ve managed to capture as Hades abducts Persephone is more in tune with a Baroque composition. It’s quite similar to Bernini’s sculpture of the two.”

Sehun remembered how swiftly Kai had recognized Pygmalion and Galatea the other day. “You know a lot about art,” he stated earnestly and with awe.

Kai chuckled bitterly. “Yeah.”

Sehun was curious. “Where did you learn all that?”

He dodged the question, choosing instead to focus more intently on Sehun’s sculpture. Sehun felt a bit uncomfortable. He was still not done the piece and Kai seemed to focus in on the unfinished bits. “There are inklings of Romanticism about this work as well. The face of Persephone, there is an undeniable impression of raw, uninhibited emotion on her face. She looks… to be in despair and anguish.” He turned to look at Sehun who had walked over to stand beside him. “You’ve captured it well.”

“Oh. Her face actually isn’t done. I… do like the way it looks right now but it’s a bit rough compared with some of my other works. She looks too intense.”

“I think it’s beautiful. I feel like I share her anguish and her anxiety when I look at it. To evoke such emotions in your audience, that’s very meaningful.”

Sehun bit his lip. “I don’t think conforming the sculpture to the Baroque or Romantic style was intentional. I-it’s partly based on my own experiences from when I was thirteen. I know what it’s like to lose all hope and be… taken.”

Kai wrapped an arm around Sehun, and was surprised and glad that Sehun made no move to shove him away.

“Where did you learn art?” Sehun persisted.

Kai let out a breath. “I studied in Italy. In Florence,” he admitted quietly. “For four years when I was a teenager. It was not too long ago.”

Sehun looked at the lieutenant. “Why did you leave Italy?”

Kai laughed softly. “Do you always ask so many questions?”

Sehun shrugged bashfully. He sensed that Kai did not wish to speak any more on the matter so led them back to his Apollo sketches. The two decided on a pose and Kai settled to sit against the wall to watch Sehun start to chip away at the block of marble that was to become a small statue of Apollo. Sehun looked to his drawing for approximations of shape.

Perhaps inadvertently, Sehun had sketched out an Apollo whose stance resembled that of Kai’s the first time he had seen him. The figure was in a casual pose, face angled slightly away from the body to look at something in front of him. He looked slightly nervous. This was a bit out of the ordinary for Sehun, who was used to sculpting antiquity figures that were the epitome of confidence and courage, but Sehun pictured that this was how Apollo would look upon first seeing one of his great loves. It conveyed a realistic and almost vulnerable aspect to his sculpture that Sehun found himself liking eager to sculpt.

He worked the morning away, unsure of what to do with Kai, although he seemed comfortable just sitting there and watching him. By high noon, he had forgotten that Kai was there, attention taken away by the small Apollo he was releasing out of its rocky prison. He was quite hot, due to the weather and the effort he was putting into his chiseling. He took his shirt off and waved his arms up and down while spinning around slightly to cool off. He heard a gasp behind him.

Sehun spun around to meet Kai’s eyes and covered himself up in shame. “Sorry, I know you don’t want to see it, I know I’m hideous.”

Kai frowned and shook his head and marched to Sehun, grabbing the boy’s arms to pull them away from the protective hold. Kai brought his hands to cup Sehun’s face.

“Sehun, you’re beautiful.”

Sehun shivered under Kai’s touch and his eyelids fluttered shut. Kai’s thumb traced the curve of Sehun’s cheek gently. “I mean it, you know, I really do think you’re beautiful.”

Sehun sucked in a breath. “Why are you so nice to me?” he whispered.

Kai smiled softly. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?” he chided gently.

Sehun pulled away. “I don’t know. Should I be worried of your interest in me?”

Kai shook his head profusely. “Sehun, I’m not like that.”

Sehun turned his back to Kai. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“That’s why I was so shocked last night, when I walked in,” Kai confessed. “I mean, I saw you, wearing nothing but pants and, I mean, how else was I supposed to react when you’re so beautiful?” Kai paused, then proceeded to ramble anxiously. “I mean, I wouldn’t do anything, I’m _not_ going to do anything, but it’s just,” Kai yanked at his hair. “It pains me the way you see yourself. I don’t mean that I’m upset that you don’t know you’re, you know, _unbelievably gorgeous,_ but it really hurts to see the way you view yourself and seem to hate yourself for… some physical imperfections. Sehun, you’re beautiful.”

Sehun’s cheeks pinked. Kai really thought he was beautiful? Coming from an East Asian Adonis himself, that statement was a bit hard to believe.

“They’re not just physical imperfections,” Sehun whispered to himself. He turned to Kai and held out his hands. Kai grasped and carressed them warmly. “Is this relationship… normal?” Sehun asked timidly, looking down at their now entwined fingers.

He was unsure how to behave with and around Kai. It had been so long since he had talked to someone around his age or had a companion. Of course, he had Luhan, but Luhan was more of an elder brother to him, always fretting over Sehun’s welfare and making sure he was alright and keeping mum about his own troubles so as to not worry him. Sehun of course, refused to talk about his worries as a result of this. Luhan already had too much to stress over. Sehun was amiable with some people, like his neighbour Chanyeol, but apart from that, he had no friends. He had several close friends when he lived in Busan as a child, but upon being forced to flee to Seoul, he was unable to become close to many people due to the necessity of lying low and staying in hiding.

Was Kai a friend? Sehun was unsure. But he allowed his mind to ponder the possibility of Kai being his friend. He liked the idea of Kai being his friend. Kai made him feel safe and protected, and when he looked at Sehun like he was right now, with those expressive eyes that looked like dark amber in the sun’s rays, his face raw with emotion and his lips trembling slightly, Sehun wanted to look away—and he would have if he didn’t think Kai was so beautiful—because he was confused by what he felt.

He wondered if the young lieutenant was being nice to him so he could have his merry way with him later and hoped that his intentions were as kind as his exterior appearance.

“You never did answer my question that second night. Why are you helping me and the Resistance?”

Kai shrugged. Sehun sighed. Still feeling a bit insecure, he covered his chest as he walked back to his Apollo, tossing the idea to put his shirt back on because it was so incredibly hot. Kai went back to his place against the wall, content to sit in silence again and watch Sehun work. For the rest of the day, Sehun chiselled away at the marble, enlisting Kai’s help occasionally when he needed an opinion or advice or when he was thirsty and would ask Kai to fetch him some tea.

At the end of the day, the two went into Sehun’s kitchen to grab some dinner. Sehun was pleasantly surprised at how much he enjoyed Kai’s company, even if the man did not speak much. He was reassured by his presence and it had been years since he had felt so relaxed and at ease. Kai uncapped the jar of kimchi and scooped out some of the morning’s burned rice into two bowls, giving the unburned bits to Sehun. His heart warmed. Kai handed him a pair of chopsticks. They were both too lazy to move, so they leaned against the counter, eating their cold rice and kimchi in peaceful silence. The orange rays of sunset mingled with the cool evening breeze that fluttered in through the open kitchen window.

“I like this,” Kai murmured, looking past the apartment window at the quiet Busan neighbourhood below, softly lit by the fading rays of sunlight. The breeze ruffled his hair lightly, and he took a deep breath and exhaled, smiling softly, eyes closed.

Sehun looked at him. He too breathed in the smell of evening and revelled in the lazy, languid caress of the setting sun on his face. He felt Kai’s comforting warmth beside him and realized that for the first time in a long while, he was _happy._

“Your Apollo,” Kai began as he ate up the stray bits of rice at the bottom of his bowl. Sehun wanted to coo at the sight. “The sketch is very Romantic. Very unlike your Renaissance sculptures.”

Sehun nodded. It was different but he was content with deviating from his usual style. “It captures the god in a moment of vulnerability. It shows that he is still quite human with emotions and feelings and fallacies despite being immortal.” He ducked his head down, almost embarrassed. “Imagine him seeing Hyacinth for the first time and being taken aback.”

Kai stared at him intently.

“Is it to your liking?” Sehun asked shyly and anxiously, finding himself wanting to please Kai. He told himself that it was because Kai was his customer.

Kai nodded eagerly, shooting Sehun a smile. “I love it.”

“Good,” Sehun whispered.

“I studied the Romantic era a bit in Italy,” he said, eyes glazing over slightly. “I thought it an exciting time. I would have liked to study it in further depth but…” Kai’s mouth twisted as he trailed off.

“Tell me about it,” Sehun requested. “The Romantic era.”

“Well, it wasn’t very impactful on the world of sculpture, I think. It occurred during the 1700s, and it mostly involved painting and literature. It stressed the emotion and imagination of the artist and allowed for freedom against classical ideals. Your Apollo is quite the perfect example of that.”

Sehun hummed.

“I studied the Sturm und Drang movement of Romanticism in particular. I liked how stuff like turmoil and emotional intensity were portrayed as something beautiful. It reminds me a lot of you, you know? So much anguish, so much turmoil. But I think it makes you a more beautiful person.”

Sehun’s breath hitched.

“So much complexity, so much suffering,” Kai continued softly. “Yet you still manage to turn your pain into exquisite art. Your command of the chisel is beyond compare. Pain is easy to portray but to use your passion and pain to create something beautiful is magnificent.”

“How romantic,” Sehun murmured, resting his head on Kai’s shoulder. He was still drinking in Kai’s words, unsure how to react. His every muscle thrummed as if he were drunk and he felt lightheaded.

“The name confused me originally,” Kai confessed with a chuckle. “I thought it referred to an era that was amorous in nature. There’s no connection at all though between, uh, love, and Romanticism, though. The English ‘romantic’ and French ‘romantique’ were actually used during that time to describe natural phenomena, like sunsets.”

The two stood there, leaning against each other, watching the sun descend.

Amidst the turmoil of their lives and the chaos of the world around them, they managed to create a romantic picture of serene calm, emotion, and contentment.

 

~

I imagine Sehun’s sculpture of Pygmalion and Galatea to look like a 3-D version of Lagrenée’s painting of the two. In regards to Kai’s elocution, the contrapposto pose was commonly used in Renaissance sculpture and is basically when the lines of the shoulders and hips don’t match up. I think. Sehun’s sculpture of Persephone’s abduction, in my mind, looks like Bernini’s _The Rape of Proserpina._ Search it up, it’s a fantastic piece and Bernini is one of my favourite artists.

Florence is a city in northern Italy, the capital of the region of Tuscany. Many consider it to be the birthplace of the Renaissance.

The Renaissance lasted from the fourteenth to seventeenth centuries. It was a period of great creativity that impacted the arts, sculpture, architecture, and philosophy and saw the revival of many classical ideals from Greek teachings. It’s way more than just that but I don’t think I’m really qualified to explain any of this.

Romanticism was an artistic and intellectual movement that influenced literature, art, music, and philosophy. It began at the end of the eighteenth century and placed importance on emotion and the role of the individual. An aesthetic experience required emotions such as awe, horror, and apprehension, especially in the face of nature. The period was largely rooted in the Sturm und Drang movement but also received influences from the French Revolution. It praised the role of heroic artists and people whose feats could raise the quality of society. 

The Sturm und Drang movement was largely a German school that emphasized extreme emotion and subjectivity in literature but I thought it a nice way to describe Sehun. It was a response to the strict rules of previous aesthetic and artistic movements such as that of the Neoclassical era and Age of Enlightenment. I’m not terribly well versed in the arts, I just have quite a passion for them, so I apologize if I’ve made a mistake.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading. <3

 


	5. Furusato

Kai left later that night. Sehun went to bed soon after and dreamt of sunsets and Kai.

The next morning, his apartment was quiet. He frowned, gently chastising himself for expecting to see Kai again today. Sehun didn’t know much about the role of a lieutenant, but if the decorations Kai had worn the first time Sehun had seen him and the way the young officer carried himself were any indication, he seemed to be fairly highly ranked. That meant he would be busy most of the time and that Sehun should drop his whimsical fancies for someone he really shouldn’t be thinking these things about in the first place.

Kai did not show up at Sehun’s door for the remainder of August. Lonely and with nothing else to do, he worked on Kai’s Apollo and was close to completing the piece.

Although Sehun had never seen Kai’s bare legs, Sehun imagined, after seeing the shape of them straining against Kai’s well-fit trousers, that they would look quite like the legs Sehun had sculpted for Apollo: toned, lithe, and robust, not overly-muscled like some other depictions of the god. The muscles on Apollo’s left leg looked to be a bit clenched and his pose placed most of the weight on his right leg. This betrayed the slightest hint of movement in his statue, even if it looked to be tentative. Sehun had felt Kai’s strong arms around him many times, and transferred the fierceness he associated with those limbs to Apollo’s arms. The god’s right hand confidently held a lyre, symbolizing his connection with the arts. On his back was a basket filled with arrows. The feathers of the arrows were uneven, signifying that they had been used. Apollo’s bow, however, lay at his feet.

Sehun thought back again to the first time he had seen Kai, in his studio room, illuminated by candlelight. Kai had also looked a bit unsure and the memory of the gun on his hip served as a reminder that although Sehun saw him differently now—he was a cultured man who was appreciative of the arts, and who was also incredibly kind—he was still capable of terrible things.

He still distributed his posters around town but stopped after a while, afraid that another officer might see him doing so as Kai did, even with the patrol schedule Luhan had given him, and feeling unmotivated to do so after not seeing Luhan in so long. He went over to Luhan’s apartment several times, even trying to visit at different times of the day in the hopes that he might catch his ge, but never found Luhan home. He spent the extra time taking on extra commissions and reading. He read the ones he owned again several times and, using Kai’s payment, purchased new ones on the Romantic era, moved by Kai’s description of the period, and later artistic movements.

He had also started seeing more of his neighbour, Chanyeol. They were on friendly terms but still strangers. That more or less changed when one day, the friendly giant knocked on his door offering Sehun some large blocks of wood.

“I know you’re a sculptor and I have some extra wood if you want it,” the tall man had shyly mumbled, scratching his neck. “I don’t know if you usually work with it but I was getting some in preparation for winter and seriously miscalculated the size of my apartment.” The giant chuckled.

Sehun had never worked with wood before but was intrigued by the prospect of doing so and had graciously accepted the gift. He intended to use them to carve tal, traditional Korean face masks that were used in war, theatre, and as talismans. He also invited Chanyeol in for lunch some other time, charmed by the man’s cheerful temperament and friendly smile and wanting to get to know his neighbour better. And, although he was reluctant to admit it to himself, he missed Kai’s company. Chanyeol was no replacement, but after having a taste of being around other people after being alone for so long, Sehun craved the presence of another person. Even if he was not Kai.

Chanyeol agreed to his suggestion for lunch and showed up at his door at noon the day after with a box of rice cakes. Sehun eyed the delicacy that he hadn’t indulged in since practically forever with his mouth watering. The two sat for an amiable lunch and Sehun learned that Chanyeol owned a restaurant in one of the trendier districts of Busan. Sehun wasn’t too surprised. Chanyeol was easy to talk to and he imagined that the giant was a stellar host.

“So what do you do apart from sculpting?” Chanyeol asked as he twirled his japchae on his chopsticks. It was late September. Lunch had become something of a weekend ritual for them now. It was a bit strange at first as the giant seemed overly friendly, but he found that he enjoyed Chanyeol’s company. “Like in your spare time…?”

Sehun thought hard. He supposed that he didn’t have many hobbies. “I’m not sure. I guess I like to read?”

Chanyeol nodded thoughtfully. “I wanted to ask you…” he trailed off, looking a bit uncertain. “There’s a fair this weekend for the upcoming autumn festival in the Busanjin district. I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

Sehun looked at him.

“It’s just that I hardly ever see you go out and it’s been practically forever since I went to the fair,” Chanyeol started rambling. “So I thought it’d be nice if we went together? You don’t have to agree. But it’ll be so much fun.” Chanyeol looked at Sehun cutely.

Sehun laughed. “Sure,” he said, shrugging. “I haven’t been to the fair since I was a kid.”

Chanyeol clapped his hands delightedly and proceeded to messily finish the rest of his meal.

Sehun giggled lightly. Chanyeol may have been an intimidating giant but he behaved just like a child. His large ears that stuck out slightly and the perpetual grin on his face was a relaxing sight. Sehun wished he could be as carefree as Chanyeol one day.

~

The morning they were due at the fair, Sehun opened his apartment door after hearing Chanyeol’s insistent knocks and found the happy giant bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Are you ready to go?”

Sehun gave a quick nod and stepped out with, adjusting the straps on his backpack. He shot a grin up at his smiling neighbour and the two started off towards the tram stop.

It was a sunny day, not a cloud in sight. In the hot streetcar, amidst the noises of excited chatter, the two men talked and laughed along with the rest of the passengers, excited for the fair. Sehun and Chanyeol chose to stand, giving up their seats to the elderly and the young, and grabbed on to the handles for balance as the tram shook through the streets of Busan. Sehun smiled up at Chanyeol, who towered over him and who shot him a funny face in return.

When they finally pulled up outside the entrance to the fairgrounds, Sehun’s head was slightly dizzy from the heat and the swaying motions, so he jumped off quickly and greedily inhaled the fresh morning air, warmed by his excitement and the premonition of a hot day, looking over to the entrance where a substantial number of people were already gathered. Sehun waited for Chanyeol to catch up with him before they both headed for the entrance.

He and his family had always celebrated the autumn festival, or Chuseok, by making loads of traditional foods and coming to fairs like this one.

It was surreal. Travelling on the tram, surrounded by happy people, and now gathering at the fairground where no soldiers were in sight, with other Koreans who seemed to be just as jovial as he was, Sehun felt like he was living in a different time. He felt a trace of old Korea, before the Japanese had amped up their military presence in the city of Busan, before he was raped, before he feared being in his own hometown. Sehun smiled softly, feeling his heart thudding, as he felt himself get more excited than he had for a long time and as he felt a familiar love for his city rush up in his veins.

 _This_ was the Busan of his childhood: people laughing delightedly, a sense of community as he stood there, bowing respectfully at elders and grinning after hyper children, the smell of kimchi and fritters and fish cakes wafting towards him, and feeling safe.

After a moment’s hesitation, he held on to Chanyeol’s arm with his free hand for fear of being separated in the crowd. Chanyeol looked down and smiled. Hungry, the two first stopped to peruse the food stalls and bought food from ajummas. Sehun bought some fritters to share with Chanyeol, and after noticing some vendors selling Chinese food, bought zongzi and mooncakes for them to share too, buying some extra and stowing them in his bag to bring to Luhan later that day.

The two walked around, stopping to go on the simple rides that were set up and to play carnival games. Chanyeol won a lavish fan for Sehun at a ring toss. Sehun opened it delightedly and fluttered it coyly in front of his face, making Chanyeol laugh. He held it at an angle above his head, feeling the sun starting to bother his milky skin.

As they weaved their way through a crowd of people, Sehun noticed that the din had quieted and searched for the source of the hush.

He wished he hadn’t looked. A group of Japanese soldiers were walking through the crowd, imparting a silencing effect on the surrounding people. Seeing others bowing their heads down respectfully, Sehun followed suit, cursing the Japanese for ruining what had been an almost perfect day. His hands started shaking.

“Good afternoon!” one of the officers shouted in heavily accented Korean, noticing that all activity had ceased. “Please continue with your festivities!” The chatter and celebration slowly returned to normal, both out of the people’s desire to enjoy themselves and out of fear of disobeying the soldiers.

A shiny pair of boots engaged in a familiar gait entered Sehun’s field of vision. It was Kai.

Kai had seen him as well and started making his way towards him and Chanyeol. “Hi,” Kai greeted, waving at his fellow officers to go on without him.

Sehun took in Kai’s appearance. It had been more than a month since the last time they met. He was dressed in full military regalia today like his comrades, and he looked tired. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair looked unusually messy as if he’d been angrily running his hands through his shiny locks out of stress. He was as beautiful as ever, though. His smooth skin and handsome features were accentuated by the beating sun. The sincerity and sparkle in his eyes as he looked at Sehun outshone the sun. The medals Kai wore flashed against Sehun’s eyes.

Chanyeol’s arm tensed around Sehun’s hand. Sehun looked at his neighbour. Kai noticed this and shifted his gaze to Chanyeol, then back at Sehun.

“Hello,” Sehun said, noticing the frown that had begun to creep on Kai’s face. “It’s… been awhile.”

Kai looked down. “Yeah,” he muttered.

Chanyeol wormed his arm out of Sehun’s weakening grasp. “I’m going to get some shaved ice,” he said to Sehun. “Would you like any?”

Sehun shook his head as Chanyeol departed, leaving him alone with Kai. Kai stepped closer to Sehun, taking over the spot Chanyeol had previously occupied. “Who’s that?”

“My neighbour,” Sehun said, looking at Kai. “Chanyeol.”

Kai nodded slowly.

“Nothing happened,” Sehun added quickly, blushing.

“No, no, Sehun,” Kai rushed out. “I’m not accusing you of anything. You’re free to do whatever you please. It’s just that,” Kai paused to scratch the back of his neck with his gloved hand, “I don’t really trust him.”

Sehun looked at Kai, perplexed.

“I don’t… like the way he looks at you, Sehun,” admitted Kai. Sehun had a feeling that Kai was hiding something but didn’t pry. Kai looked down at Sehun’s hand.

Sehun laughed. “Is someone jealous?” he teased. Kai rolled his eyes and looked away, but Sehun detected a faint hint of pink tinting Kai’s bronze skin. Sehun brought his hand to wrap around Kai’s arm. Kai looked at the point of contact in surprise. “He’s just my neighbour,” Sehun said again. “And it’s been so long since I’ve been to the fair.”

Kai nodded. “Did you eat yet?”

“I’m still a little hungry,” he fibbed, not wanting to part ways with Kai or let the man starve. Kai nodded again and the two made their way to the food stalls. Several people stared at Sehun, walking alongside a Japanese officer, but most people ignored the duo, too distracted by the going-ons of the fair. If Kai noticed the glances, he made no indication of it, and focused instead on slurping down a bowl of wheat noodles in cold soup that he had promised to share with Sehun when he had bought it. Sehun giggled when some of the broth dribbled down Kai’s chin. Kai used his gloved hand to pat the wetness and frowned when he saw that the white fabric was stained. Sehun laughed. Kai pulled off both gloves and used them to bop him lightly on the head in response. Sehun ducked away quickly, smiling.

A vision of Chanyeol flashed in Sehun’s periphery. He looked for his neighbour and found the giant in deep conversation with several of the officers Kai had come with.

“Does he know them?” Sehun asked Kai, gesturing at Chanyeol.

Kai shrugged, looking away. “He owns a trendy restaurant that’s popular with the Japanese. I imagine that he’s at least seen many of them before.”

Chanyeol caught Sehun’s eye and looked a bit caught off guard before waving and gesturing that Sehun should explore the fair without him. Sehun shrugged and then turned back to Kai.

“Why did you come here?” Sehun asked after he managed to snatch some noodles for himself. Kai took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket to dab at Sehun’s mouth.

“My mom used to talk about Chuseok. She spoke of the fairs. I’ve been in Busan for a while but this is the first time that I’ve been to such a festivity.” Kai paused. “I like it. The atmosphere… it’s a shame it can’t be like this everyday.”

Sehun chuckled bitterly.

Kai gently grasped Sehun’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Kai held on to his hand for the remainder of the fair. Sehun walked with Kai as he had done with Chanyeol earlier, pausing to play games and to protest Kai’s insistence on buying as many gifts as possible for Sehun. Kai didn’t listen, of course, and now, there was the added weight of dolls, books, and charms along with the food he had purchased for Luhan in his bag.

Walking around, holding Kai’s hand, Sehun felt like he was on a date. Seeing Sehun struggling slightly under his heavy bag, Kai eased it off of Sehun’s shoulders and hefted it on to his own back. Sehun blushed lightly. Kai looked inquiringly at him. Sehun shook his head and looked away defiantly, ignoring the way he reddened even more at Kai’s knowing smirk. The two wandered away from the crowds to a tree-lined area within the fairgrounds. There were lanterns set up and they glowed brightly against the fading light of the late afternoon. Autumn had turned the foliage into a watercolour of gold and vermillion.

“This reminds me of my childhood,” Sehun began. Times like this, when he was alone with Kai, always made him very pensive and want to open up his heart and reveal everything to a man he had only known for about two months.

Kai hummed, wrapping his arms around Sehun.

Sehun snuggled into the embrace. “It wasn’t always like this. Even though there were some soldiers and we had become a colony, it still wasn’t so bad. Before the depression, we used to play games in the streets. The elderly would watch us and bring us candy. There was a lot of greenery and nature around, and we would go off into the wilderness and pick peaches and berries. I remember wading in the streams even though my parents would not allow it and catching tadpoles and fishing for minnows in the rivers. We used to go on school hiking trips to the mountains outside the city. I remember standing at the summit and looking down on the city and thinking how beautiful my hometown was.” Since the revolts in 1929 and the increased number of soldiers in Busan, people tended to stay out of the streets and after the invasion of Manchuria in 1931, the surrounding countryside had been taken over by industrial plants and factories that were now using Korean workers to aid Japan’s war effort in China.

Kai nodded somberly.

“And there was no fear,” Sehun continued in a whisper. “People used to laugh freely and they were… happy. They were happy without a particular reason to be. It was just the way things used to be I guess.”

Kai paused for a moment and then quietly began to sing.

_“Usagi oishi kano yama,_

_Kobuna tsurishi kano kawa._

_Yume wa ima mo megurite,_

_Wasure gataki furusato.”_

Sehun froze, perturbed by the Japanese words. He had only heard Japanese spoken harshly in the form of orders and during that night in Seoul… But he slowly relaxed, soothed by Kai’s voice. He was surprised to find that the words sounded so peaceful and… yearning? He looked at Kai as he sang. The young officer looked so sad.

“It’s a Japanese folk song,” Kai explained, eyes slightly misty after he finished singing. “It’s about chasing rabbits on mountains and fishing for minnows in rivers and… missing those days. It’s called Furusato. It means old home or hometown.”

Sehun’s eyes softened.

“Japan was not always aggressive,” Kai said softly. “Although I was only half-Japanese and was often teased for my mixed heritage at school, I love my country. I love Japan.”

Sehun flinched.

Kai cupped Sehun’s face. “It wasn’t always like this for me. I also used to play games in the streets where I grew up in the countryside and wander about the mountains and swim in the lakes. I grew up there and spent ten years in paradise.”

“When were you born?”

“I was born in 1921.” Kai was born the same year as him.

“Really? Me too.” Sehun grinned. “Be more specific, I need to know if I can boss you around.”

“January 14,” Kai said. “What about you?”

“Never mind,” Sehun pouted.

“Huh? Come on, tell me.”

“April 12.”

“Okay, get ready to be bossed around.”

“Yah! I take that back, let’s just be casual with each other,” Sehun insisted, scrunching his eyes up cutely. “Tell me more.”

Kai smiled. “It was a long ago. But I remember it so vividly,” Kai continued. “It was so beautiful, Sehun, so peaceful. My favourite time of day was early morning, those precarious minutes before sunrise. I would run to a shallow cliff to get a good view and breathe in the early morning mist and hear the conversation of the fishermen rowing their boats out on to the lake and watch the sun slowly rise over the mountains in the distance. It’s one of the most beautiful things in the world.” Kai’s eyes were closed and a tear fell loose and trailed down his cheek. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

 _You’re beautiful,_ Sehun thought as he gazed at Kai. Sehun tried to picture Kai’s memory in his mind but felt that his imagination wasn’t enough to fully capture the beauty of the scene he was describing.

“But then the depression hit and we had to move to the city so my parents could… find jobs. We moved to Tokyo. The atmosphere there was tense. People were nationalistic. Out of desperation, I think. Some people resorted to, uh, communism, but most people joined the military. There were no children playing in the streets there because they were always full of ultranationalists and young soldiers marching. I think that’s one of the reasons why I left my parents to study in Italy in 1934. I regret doing that sometimes, leaving them alone in Tokyo. They died without me by their side as I should have been.”

Sehun looked sorrowfully at Kai.

“I understand the nationalists to an extent,” Kai said. “We were all starving and unable to feed ourselves. A lot of the things people did, it was for love of country. Then the invasion of Manchuria happened and it was around that time that things started improving. I think people thought that expanding Japan was the only way out of the depression.”

Sehun remained stony faced.

“I know the Japanese colonized your country in 1910, before the Great War and before the depression. I don’t want to defend that action. But not everyone in Japan supported that. Not all Japanese are like the soldiers here. And I’m sorry that we turned Korea into such an aggressive military state. I’m sorry that we took so many things away from you.”

“I think it’s been very hard for you too,” Sehun mumbled softly after a moment. “I’m sorry that I hated you.”

Kai laughed. “All is forgiven,” he murmured.

“Will you tell me more about your childhood?” Sehun asked shyly. He still did not know much about the young officer.

Kai looked behind Sehun. He dropped his hands and smiled down softly. “Maybe later. I think your neighbour is looking for you.”

Sehun turned around. Sure enough, there was Chanyeol, jogging towards them and waving. Kai strapped Sehun’s bag back around the younger’s shoulders.

“I’ll see you some other time,” Kai said, as Sehun began walking away.

Sehun nodded, blushing, leaving Kai in the lantern-lit cluster of trees.

“Sehun!” Chanyeol said as the two closed in on each other.

“Hello.”

“I’m sorry I ditched you,” Chanyeol said.

“No, if anything I ditched you,” Sehun objected.

Chanyeol offered to hold Sehun’s bag for him but Sehun declined demurely. He could still feel Kai’s warmth on the bag and wanted to treasure the lingering traces of the young lieutenant. Chanyeol shrugged and proceeded to lead the two back to where the streetcars were waiting. Sehun turned back around towards the trees and saw Kai still standing there. Kai waved. Sehun returned the wave and then hurried to catch up with Chanyeol.

“How do you know him?” Chanyeol asked.

“Who?” Sehun asked, pretending to be clueless.

“Your officer.”

“He’s not mine,” Sehun mumbled, embarrassed now.

Chanyeol snickered. He held out his hand. “You two looked pretty taken with each other. I hate to say this, but shall we just be friends then?”

Sehun nodded, firmly grasping Chanyeol’s hand.

The two boarded the tram. There were fewer passengers on board now and they managed to find adjacent seats. It was evening and the air was cooler.

“Would you mind if I got off a bit early?” Sehun asked as they neared Luhan’s place. “You can go on without me.”

“What, why?” Chanyeol asked. “I’ll get off with you. I’ll protect you if anything bad happens in the dark,” he added jokingly.

Sehun smiled, amused. “I want to drop some things off for a friend.”

Chanyeol nodded simply and got off with Sehun. The two huffed up the stairs to Luhan’s apartment and Sehun knocked several times before digging his copy of Luhan’s house key out of his bag. He opened the door and Chanyeol hesitantly followed him inside.

“Luhan?” Sehun called. Luhan wasn’t home. Sehun frowned. Luhan would never be out this late. He placed the zongzi and mooncakes on Luhan’s kitchen counter before going into the bedroom to check for Luhan’s presence once more. He wrinkled his nose. The room reeked of lady’s perfume. Sehun turned on the light. A silk kimono was draped on the bed. Sehun’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. The person Luhan was seeing was a girl? Luhan had told Sehun he was gay, but Sehun didn’t really question Luhan’s actions.

“Maybe he’s out with her,” Chanyeol guessed, peering into the bedroom.

“Maybe,” Sehun agreed.

The two left after Sehun scrawled out a quick note for Luhan that he placed on his friend’s bed. He requested that he and Luhan meet up in their usual meeting spot and time to discuss the Resistance. Sehun and Chanyeol walked home quickly, spurred on by a shared wish to be out of the cold and to be asleep after a tiring day.

Sehun bade Chanyeol goodnight as he headed into his own apartment, falling asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He fell into a deep slumber, dreaming of mountains and clear lakes and of children’s laughter as they splashed around in rivers, looking for minnows.

 

~

The invasion of Manchuria by the Kwantung Army of the Imperial Japanese Army took place in 1931. Manchuria is a region in northeastern China, today part of the province of Dongbei. The invasion began with the Mukden Incident, where a Japanese officer detonated a small amount of dynamite on a railroad track belonging to a Japanese company and accused Chinese dissidents of the act. The Kwantung Army used it as a pretext to invade. Even though China’s Northeastern Army headed by Zhang Xueliang (he was son of the former Manchurian warlord) had a quarter of a million men and the most advanced arsenal in China, because of Zhang adopted a policy of little resistance as the party he was loyal to, the Guomindang, was largely focused on fighting Mao and his communists at the time. Manchuria was occupied by only 11,000 Japanese troops.

The song Kai sings is called [Furusato](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcmcXrCihrA&t). The link is to a YouTube video. It’s a lovely Japanese folk song that I first heard, strangely enough, in a Chinese drama and I suppose it made quite the impression on me. Give it a listen, it’s so beautiful. There are more verses than the one Kai sings, which you can find online. Here is a (loose) translation for Kai’s singing that I stole off Wikipedia.

_I chased after rabbits on that mountain,_

_I fished for minnows in that river._

_I still dream of those days even now,_

_Oh, how I miss my old country home._

More on Chanyeol’s motives, Luhan’s mystery romance, and Kai’s childhood and adolescence soon! Thanks for reading! <3

 


	6. Resistance

Sehun went over to Luhan’s apartment again the next day, worried slightly for his friend who he hadn’t seen in over a month and full of questions.

When he arrived, he knocked on the door but received no answer. He unlocked it and entered, calling for Luhan. A box stood in the middle of the room. Sehun twisted his lips in confusion, skirting carefully around the box. It hadn’t been there the night before.

He tentatively made his way towards Luhan’s bedroom and opened the door. It smelled musty and Sehun rushed to open the windows. He cast a glance at the figure on the bed.

A pale, tired face peeked out from under a heap of rumpled blankets. Luhan looked worn and there were dark shadows under his eyes even as he slept. Taking a closer look, Sehun was not sure if the shadows could be attributed to Luhan’s fatigue or the makeup he wore that was now slightly smudged. Shooting another worried look at Luhan, Sehun scurried to the kitchen to try and dredge up some breakfast. He heated some soup and noticed that the food he had set on the counter was untouched. Sehun placed the soup along with the zongzi and mooncakes on a tray and brought it to Luhan’s bed. He lightly shook the boy.

Luhan gave a start and whimpered, shrinking away from Sehun, trembling slightly. He retracted his hand hastily and gently called out Luhan’s name. Luhan immediately looked up, seeming almost relieved.

“Sehun,” Luhan whispered, pulling himself into a sitting position. 

Sehun didn’t say anything, just smiled and took the tray he had placed on the bedside table and lowered it on to Luhan’s lap. 

“Zongzi! And mooncakes too!” Luhan exclaimed weakly, looking at Sehun gratefully. “Where did you get these?”

“I made them, of course,” Sehun replied, faking indignation.

Luhan took a big bite of the zongzi and shook his head. “Nope, they taste too good for you to have made them.”

Sehun laughed. “I went to the fair yesterday. They were selling a bunch of food.”

Luhan nodded thoughtfully. “They mentioned something like that,” he said absent-mindedly as he sipped the soup.

“Who?” Sehun asked.

Luhan was too busy eating to reply.

“Are you okay, Luhan?” asked Sehun waiting for Luhan to finish the soup before hurling anymore questions at him. 

Luhan nodded distractedly. Sehun sat on the bed beside him and observed his friend closely. Luhan had lost weight. He was wearing face powder like the last time Sehun saw him. The powder gave a synthetic pallor to Luhan’s complexion, making him look almost like a doll. Sehun much preferred Luhan’s naturally pale and rosy skin. Luhan’s hair had also grown substantially, framing his face delicately and making him look even more like a girl. Sehun leaned closer, about to tell Luhan to get a haircut, when he caught a whiff of cigar smoke, alcohol, and a hint of flowery perfume.

“Where were you last night?” Sehun inquired, confused. Alcohol was strictly prohibited and only available to the Japanese. 

“I was here. I was at home all day.”

Sehun paused. “No,” he said slowly. “I came here last night. You weren’t here.” 

“Oh,” was all Luhan said. “I went out for a little bit late at night.” 

“Are you okay?” Sehun asked again. “You seem very tired.”

Luhan nodded. “I’m a bit sick. A cold, I think. I just need to sleep a bit more.” He shifted on the bed and looked down in surprise at the sound of paper crumpling. Sehun’s note. Luhan looked at the message before looking at Sehun sorrowfully. “I don’t think I can meet up in the evening anymore.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, Sehun,” Luhan began, ruffling his long hair. “But I took on this night job and it pays pretty well so I really can’t afford to quit.”

“Oh. That’s good,” Sehun said. “Don’t overwork yourself though,” he added, slightly glad that he got the chance to look after Luhan, who had always cared for him. 

Luhan nodded quickly, taking a bite of mooncake. “Yes mother,” he said cheekily, ducking down as Sehun moved to lightly swat his head. “Mmm, these are pretty authentic.”

“How’s your girlfriend?” 

“Huh? O-oh yeah,” Luhan stuttered. “She’s fine. S-she got me this job. She’s, um, fairly well-connected.”

Sehun looked at the heap of feminine clothing in a corner of Luhan’s room. 

“She stays here sometimes. She looks after me,” Luhan explained quickly, seeing where Sehun was looking.

“Well, she’s not doing a very good job,” Sehun murmured, frowning. 

“Will you be able to manage with the Resistance on your own? You can start recruiting more people.”

“I’ll be fine,” Sehun said, throwing a reassuring look at Luhan. “And no. I don’t want to bring any other people into this.” He wasn’t sure if could do it without Luhan. He also didn’t know who to trust. 

Luhan shook his head. He got out of bed shakily and limped to his armoire. Sehun choked back a gasp. Luhan was wearing only a light sleeping shirt that did not cover much of his legs. In the brightness of the small room, Sehun could see a constellation of bruises imprinted on Luhan’s delicate skin. Sehun wondered if they came from Luhan’s workplace and just what kind of work could be doing that would result in something like this. Seemingly unaware of the dismal state of his legs, Luhan opened the armoire and ruffled around for a bit before emerging with a stuffed envelope.

“Here,” Luhan said, pressing it into Sehun’s hand. “As I said the job pays pretty well, so…” 

Sehun lifted the flap slightly and gasped at the sight of a thick wad of Korean yen. “L-Luhan, I can’t accept this.”

Luhan shook his head. “Please, Sehun,” he insisted. “Treat yourself to some art supplies or some beef or something.” 

Sehun reluctantly stopped swatting Luhan with the envelope and trying in vain to shove it back into Luhan’s hands. “Alright,” Sehun said uncomfortably. “Thank you Luhan.” 

“Thanks for the zongzi. And the mooncakes,” said Luhan wistfully. “It’s been so long since I’ve had any.” 

Sehun nodded somberly. He wanted to ask Luhan more questions but saw that Luhan’s eyes were beginning to flutter shut so he gently maneuvered his friend back into bed. “Get better soon,” Sehun murmured before picking up the tray of now empty tableware and walking out of Luhan’s room. He quickly washed and dried the dishes before heading to the front door, tripping on the large box. The box tipped over, and a heap of bills toppled out. Sehun gaped. Where had Luhan gotten all this money? No job could possibly pay that well. He noticed not only Korean yen, but also Japanese yen in the stack that was sprawled on the floor and frowned in confusion. Making a mental note to ask Luhan about it later, he quickly swept the bills back into the box, uprighting it before swiftly exiting Luhan’s apartment. 

The sun slashed white streaks into Sehun’s vision as he trekked back to his apartment while being caught in the midst of the war between the last inklings of summer’s heat and autumn’s cool breezes. As he rounded a corner, a small but strong hand gripped his elbow.

Sehun yelped as he was roughly dragged into the shadowy alley between two buildings. He turned his eyes to his attacker, a small, slender male dressed in fashionable clothes, and relaxed slightly at the man’s friendly Korean face. 

“You’re Oh Sehun?” 

Sehun nodded cautiously. 

The man gave him a smile. “Nice to meet you.” He bowed and stuck out a pretty hand. Sehun bowed back and grasped the slender fingers in a tentative handshake. 

“Do I know you?” Sehun asked. The man seemed vaguely familiar.

“You don’t remember? Doesn’t matter. I know you, though.”

“W-what?” 

“You’re the son of Oh Himchan and Kim Noeul!”

Sehun stiffened as he heard his parents’ names and rapidly blinked away the stinging in his eyes. “I… don’t know those people.”

“Come on, I’m no snitch. We used to go to school together.”

“W-what?”

“I was two years above you! I was the supervisor for your group when we used to go hiking. Remember, Sehunnie?”

“Oh!” Sehun said. He stifled a laugh. “We ended up having to supervise you most of the time. Remember when you fell down a cliff?”

Baekhyun smiled. “Yeah that was pretty fun.”

“Good thing it wasn’t too steep,” Sehun added.

“So, when did you come back?”

“Six years ago,” Sehun said quietly. “How did you find me?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “My father mentioned an Oh Sehun a while back but I didn’t really think much of it because I heard you guys ran to Seoul back when…” He cleared his throat. “But then I saw you at the Chuseok fair yesterday. You’ve grown but I would recognize that cute face anywhere.”

“Um.”

“How are the Japs not on to you? You’re pretty high-profile, with your work and your commissions from builbae.”

Sehun leaned on the wall, trying to quell the memories. “They were after my parents, not me.” 

“I heard about what happened to them,” Baekhyun said, more gently now. “But I’m glad that you’re unhurt.” 

Sehun took a deep breath and again bobbed his head, unsure of what to do or say. “What do you want?” Sehun eventually asked. It came out sounding harsher than he intended. 

Baekhyun latched his fingers back around Sehun’s elbow. “You should add ‘hyung’ to that,” Baekhyun teased lightly, noticing how nervous Sehun seemed. Baekhyun’s face shifted back to seriousness once again. “Not here.” He dragged the bewildered youth down the alley where a waiting automobile was parked. He opened the door. “Get in.” Sehun paused, but a pointed look from Baekhyun told him not to argue, so he obliged his hyung, sinking into the plush seat of the stuffy car with a grimace.

Baekhyun looked around the empty streets, checking, before climbing into the driver’s seat and hitting the gas pedal. The car crawled at a slow pace, obeying the speed regulations the Japanese had instated, down the mostly deserted streets. Sehun’s eyes were fixed on the window, and he watched the scenery shift from the fairly crowded apartment blocks and offices to a more cushy, tree-dense residential area in the city center, where the buildings were trimmed with architectural ornaments and bright potted flowers rested on balconies. Baekhyun parked the car behind a row of other automobiles and hopped out. Sehun hurriedly did the same and followed Baekhyun down a tiled pathway into one of the buildings. Baekhyun grunted as he opened the ornate doors and ushered Sehun into the lobby. Sehun looked around in awe. 

Although many touches of luxury had been removed—areas of the wall were coloured differently, revealing where paintings once hung and the artificial waterfall was devoid of water—it was still dripping with wealth. Sehun turned his head at a pinging sound and saw Baekhyun step into one of the elevators. Sehun followed and the two men stood in silence as the gilded doors snapped shut and as the contraption made a smooth ascent on to Baekhyun’s floor. Sehun followed Baekhyun out and down the wide, carpeted hallway towards a door that Baekhyun unlocked. He held it open for Sehun before stepping into his home and shutting the door quickly.

Sehun drank in the plush interior, running his eyes over the golden wall trim and leather sofas that were holding an assortment of embroidered pillows. Decorative items such as vases and little sculptures of Eros were scattered about and a cabinet of crystal and china occupied a large area of the room. The curtains were pulled across the bay windows of the sitting room and the room was lit instead with a rather ostentatious chandelier. 

A grand piano stood off to the side and a pale man was sat on the bench. Sehun jumped as he noticed him, and bowed in greeting. The man stood up and bowed as well, walking towards Sehun with a smile. Baekhyun gave Sehun a little nudge forward into the room. 

“Kim Junmyeon,” the man introduced, his tone velvety and mature. 

“Oh Sehun.”

“We know who you are,” he replied with a chuckle. 

Sehun forced a titter.

“Please sit,” Baekhyun requested, sweeping his hands towards the sofas. 

Sehun sat slowly. “So, why am I here?”

Junmyeon sat across from Sehun and surveyed him calmly while Baekhyun went into the kitchen to fetch them all tea. “Baekhyun saw you putting up the posters,” stated Junmyeon.

“O-oh?”

“Baekhyun was out eating with his father,” Junmyeon explained. A noise of disgust from the kitchen interrupted the rather one-sided conversation. “Did you put up the other posters around town as well?”

Sehun paused, unsure of whether he should mention Luhan. He nodded.

Junmyeon whistled. “That’s quite impressive. There were a lot of posters.”

“And they were really well done too!” Baekhyun chimed in as he set a silver tray of fine china on the coffee table between the two men, pouring three cups of steaming tea for all of them. 

“D-did we also go the same school?” Sehun asked.

“Yes.” Junmyeon chuckled. “I was three years your senior so I didn’t know you very well but I remember Baekhyun vividly from our school days. Always getting into trouble.”

Baekhyun laughed, rolling his eyes. “You’re hardly Mr. Perfect.”

Junmyeon nodded as he blew slightly on his drink. “I am not sure if you are aware, but there is an official Busan Resistance still in operation.” 

Sehun nodded timidly. “I’ve seen the things that the official Resistance has done.”

Junmyeon nodded. “I am the leader of the Busan Resistance. Your parents left behind an important and inspiring legacy, Sehun, and I’m honoured to be the torchbearer.”

Sehun was stunned that a person as young as Junmyeon could lead the Resistance and thought back to the work his parents did. It mostly involved organizing protests and strikes, and sabotaging factory assembly lines. His parents and the previous generation of Resistance members didn’t do anything directly harmful to the occupying force. Perhaps that was a flaw in their method as the Japanese rose up against them and had either killed the members or forced them to flee, as had been the case with Sehun’s parents. 

At Sehun’s surprised look, Junmyeon set down his tea and said, “Practically all of the earlier members of the original Busan Resistance were either killed, have escaped, or left the city. We have strained ties with the resistance movements in other cities as we seem to be unable to agree on a method of resistance.” Junmyeon smiled wryly. “They think we’re too extreme.”

Baekhyun laughed and set his drained cup of tea on the table. “Do you think we’re too extreme, Sehun?”

Sehun wasn’t sure of what to say. 

“We were going to ask you to join us earlier, Sehun,” Junmyeon began, “but then at the fair Baekhyun—”

“I saw you hanging out with that Jap,” Baekhyun spat out loudly, and Sehun was shocked at the speed at which Baekhyun’s friendly tone turned poisonous. “The pretty one. Are you a collaborator?” 

Sehun shook his head anxiously. “No! Of course not! How could y-you say that?”

Baekhyun’s face softened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be like that. My father’s a collaborator. He used to live here with me. Pretty much everyone in these apartment complexes collaborates in some way or another with the Japanese.” 

Sehun gulped down some tea.

“My mother died in 1928, when I was nine,” Baekhyun said, eyes misting as he stared over Sehun’s shoulder. “She was sick. We couldn’t afford the drugs to treat her. After that my father became a workaholic, and eventually became the owner of several weapons factories. He cooperates with the Japanese. He does whatever they tell him to do, including manufacturing guns that the Japanese use to keep our country hostage, and they allow him to keep a portion of the profit.”

Sehun set his empty cup on the table and poured himself and the other two some more of the now warm liquid. 

“My father thinks he’s helping the both of us. He says that we won’t die of ailment because now we have the money to afford drugs. I’d rather die than live like this, under the boots of foreign invaders. He’s forgotten that the reason we were so poor in the first place is because those damned Japs came and took our land and charged rent to live on our own property.” Baekhyun’s mouth twisted bitterly as he continued. “And he has the gall to collaborate with Japanese scum and insist that what he’s doing is for the good of Korea.” 

Junmyeon looked at Sehun. “My parents were killed the same night they tried to kill your parents, Sehun. Luckily yours escaped, but the Japs did catch up to them eventually. The Japanese, they’re scum and they’re all evil.” 

Sehun looked down. He sympathized with what Baekhyun was saying. The Japanese had taken everything from him. They had taken away his family, his innocence, his hometown and all of the things he had loved about his childhood, and his country. Yet even as Sehun felt his blood swell with nationalistic fervour, his mind drifted to Kai. 

Kai was not a typical Japanese soldier. He wasn’t scum and he wasn’t evil. He saved Sehun that night when he had nearly ran into soldiers and held him and comforted him. He told Sehun about art and paid Sehun generously, too generously, for a simple commission. He smiled at Sehun and sang that song for Sehun last night and made him feel things that he couldn’t quite describe but Sehun knew that he didn’t dislike those feelings. 

Therefore, not all Japanese could be evil. 

Or were they? Sehun still did not know much about Kai, even though he had revealed a lot to Sehun yesterday. He still did not reveal his reasons for wanting to help out Sehun however, and that worried him. Kai had also stated yesterday that he understood the Japanese nationalists even though he gave a fairly good reason for doing so. Sehun chewed on his lip. 

“We thought that given your past experience, you would be able to better understand our approach,” began Junmyeon.

“I’ll help!” Sehun blurted. “I hate them too.” Although Sehun wholly agreed with those words, he could not help but feel a slight twinge of guilt for that remark, his thoughts once again turning to the handsome lieutenant.

The two official Resistance members smiled at Sehun broadly.

“I knew you were one of us,” Junmyeon said as he lifted his teacup to clink against Sehun’s. Baekhyun too raised his cup and joined the toast.

“To the Resistance!” Baekhyun cried and all three drank their tea, a poor replacement for alcohol but it would have to do. 

 

~

Sehun’s parents’ names originate from the native Korean vocabulary and not from Chinese roots as is the case with many Korean names. I did this to sort of emphasize Sehun’s love for Korea. Himchan means strong and Noeul means sunset.

Thanks for reading and please do let me know what you thought! <3

 


	7. Pact

Baekhyun drove him home and for the rest of the day, he worked in his studio. In the dwindling light of the late September afternoon, Sehun rested his forehead lightly against the top of Apollo’s head, naked chest heaving from exertion. Feeling his heart rate beginning to calm, Sehun straightened himself and surveyed Kai’s commission. It was finished. 

Sehun tossed a glance at the envelope Luhan had given him, still unsure of what to use the cash on or if he should even be spending that money in the first place. They were practically family and it was not unusual for them to give each other means of financial support but after seeing how hard Luhan obviously had worked for the bills, he felt queasy about splurging it on beef as Luhan had suggested, even after he had seen what was in the box. 

Sehun had considered adhering to Luhan’s first suggestion on using the money to purchase art supplies, thinking he could create more propaganda, but given the agenda that Baekhyun had shared with him upon his inauguration into the official Busan Resistance, it looked like he would not have much time to make posters anymore. So now the money sat there, waiting expectantly to be used. Sehun turned away, thoughts drifting to Baekhyun and Junmyeon’s plans for tonight. 

Although he had been somewhat familiar with Junmyeon’s Resistance’s exploits, he was still slightly shocked and awed at the sheer audaciousness of the schemes he was now privy to and expected to take part in. They had a tight schedule, consisting of stunts such as breaking into weapons factories like the ones owned by Baekhyun’s father and stealing weapons and explosives to use against soldiers, burying explosives such as land mines under important transport routes, ambushing groups of soldiers and killing them, and sneaking into detention centers holding Koreans suspected of anti-Japanese activities and helping them escape the cells and Busan. 

Tonight, Junmyeon was to break into a Japanese holding cell for Koreans suspected of anti-Japanese activities—Sehun had been informed that there were two important members of the official Resistance in custody and yes, Baekhyun informed him, they did go to school with them—while Baekhyun was to use his father’s keys for access to a factory, where he would be stealing weapons and damaging the machines used for manufacturing. Sehun was given a choice to join either of them for his first official assignment tonight.

His hesitance and fear in joining Junmyeon to break into military buildings, where he might encounter soldiers, had him opting to go instead with Baekhyun.

Sehun put his shirt back on and hurried into the kitchen, where quickly tossed up some dinner. He ate quickly in his now dark apartment. Baekhyun had made plans to pick up Sehun in the evening and he wanted to be ready when his hyung arrived. He was excited. A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts and he pulled on a coat and shoved the gun Kai gave him into one of the deep pockets, expecting Baekhyun. Sehun went to the door, fingers trembling as he undid the lock. Sehun opened the door and stopped. 

“Sehun,” the young lieutenant greeted. 

“K-Kai,” Sehun stuttered, surprised. He peeked past Kai’s shoulder out at the landing. No Baekhyun. Yet. Kai smiled almost shyly at him and Sehun hastily stepped aside, inviting him in, and ducked his blushing face as Kai entered his flat. Regardless of the effort he was putting in to smother down the sappy beam on his face, he felt nervous about Kai’s presence. Sehun was loath to admit it but meeting with Baekhyun and Junmyeon earlier had instilled a sense of mistrust in Kai. They were very adamant that Sehun should stop meeting with him. 

The two had battered Sehun with questions regarding “that Jap,” a moniker that Sehun mentally corrected to “Kai,” as Baekhyun and Junmyeon were not interested in knowing Kai’s name. Sehun had told them that the reason he and Kai had walked together the day of the fair was due to Kai commissioning a statue. The fact that he left out details such as that they had also walked together because Sehun was eager to see and talk with Kai again or that Sehun found Kai incredibly attractive did not make that statement any less true. 

Sehun peered outside once again, anxious for Baekhyun’s arrival. He did not know how the small male would react if he saw Kai, who was wearing full military regalia, in Sehun’s apartment in the evening even with his excuse of a commission. Most patrons did not show up at the artist’s home this late. 

Sehun locked his door once more and looked at the man labelled by his compatriots to be the enemy. The elder seemed content to stand there and watch Sehun through those sinfully gorgeous eyes but Sehun felt uncomfortable with the silence. He felt ashamed for being so attracted to this man, guilty for affiliating himself with Korean nationalists and claiming to love his country when here he was, getting lost in the perfect visage of an oppressor of his nation. 

But he couldn’t let Kai go.

Remembering that his Apollo was finished, Sehun lightly tugged on Kai’s gloved hand. Sehun felt Kai’s long fingers still before responding to Sehun’s action by wrapping themselves around his hand, and tried to quell down the heat that was creeping up his neck. He began to drag Kai towards his studio, not releasing his light grip even when it became apparent that Kai was following him willingly. 

Kai laughed softly at Sehun’s eagerness, causing a pinkish hue to veil his face. Sehun released Kai’s hand in favour of padding over to his desk and scrambling around for a candle and matches. 

Kai stood by the doorway, looking but not moving. The soldier took off his gloves.

A match was struck and the room was warmly illuminated by the leaping flame of a candle. Sehun quickly drew the lace curtains closed and set the candle on the floor by Apollo. 

Sehun’s hands shook with nervousness as Kai cast his eyes on Sehun’s completed sculpture for the first time, keeping his own eyes downcast in diffidence. Warm hands cupped the chilled flesh of his cheeks and brought his face up to meet kind eyes complemented by a gentle smile. “It’s beautiful, Sehun.” 

Sehun blushed shyly, appreciating their closeness. The candlelight danced across the golden planes of Kai’s chiselled face, reminding Sehun slightly of the Impressionist paintings he had once seen in one of his art books, which had sought to capture the motion of light over time. Sehun looked deep into Kai’s eyes and decided that he preferred the movement of light across the perfect canvas of the young officer’s face over the pretty paintings he had seen. His voice caught in his throat as he tried to utter a reply. “Th-thanks,” he croaked. 

Kai stepped up to the statue and lightly ran his fingers along the delicately carved lyre held in Apollo’s right hand and stared hard at the basket of arrows on the god’s back. He bent down and touched the bow, which lay at Apollo’s feet. “It’s perfect. Thank you.” 

Sehun grinned happily. “I was worried you wouldn’t like it.” 

“I would find anything that you create to be breathtakingly beautiful.”

“Oh?”

“Because  _ you’re _ beautiful.”

Sehun’s face flamed and he looked away from Kai’s intense gaze. 

Kai laughed lightly and fumbled in the pocket of his tunic, drawing out an envelope stuffed with bills. He pressed it into Sehun’s lax hands. He tried to push the money away; Kai’s first payment had been generous enough. 

Kai shook his head vehemently and strode over to the desk, setting the envelope there instead. “How else am I supposed to thank and repay you?” he chided softly. His eye caught on Luhan’s envelope. 

“Um, my friend got a new job or something and was kind enough to share his earnings with me,” Sehun mumbled awkwardly. “So that’s why you really shouldn’t pay me. I’m decently off.”

Kai glanced at the envelope again then back at Sehun with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he clucked and shook his head again. “Buy some beef or something; you’re too thin.”

Sehun sighed exasperatedly. Kai chuckled and made his way back to him, hands in his trouser pockets, looking a bit tense now.

“There is something I would like to ask you,” Kai stated in response to Sehun’s worried look. “Some of my superiors were been asking where I’ve been spending all my evenings the month previous. They were getting a bit suspicious. That’s why I couldn’t see you for a while. I didn’t want to bring you to their attention.” 

Sehun cast his eyes downward. Was this Kai’s way of telling him that they couldn’t see each other for another whole, tortuously long month? Chanyeol had been wonderful company but after finding himself in contact with the Japanese officer once more, he refused to go without him again. He hummed nervously to tell Kai to continue. 

“Then they saw me with you at the fair. I had to tell them that you were working on a statue for me. I hope that’s okay.”

“They know I’m a sculptor.”

“They do,” Kai agreed. “But normally you take commissions from the temples or from builbae and seeing you with me… I mean you’re Busan’s finest sculptor. Truly. And yesterday, the Tripartite Pact was signed and Japan has entered into a formal military alliance with Germany and Italy.” He paused. “I mean, the impacts and outcomes of this agreement are many but one of them is that my superiors want to commission something.”

“W-what?” Sehun cried. His pulse sped up again. Passing soldiers on the street was fine but to imagine himself trapped in a building where they would be swarming all over the place sent him into a panicked frenzy. The skin on his chest started to tingle. A sharp pain shot up his back. He cast a glance at the moving flame of the candle on the ground and flinched. He pushed Kai away. 

“Sehun, I’m sorry but they said they would launch an investigation into you. Get you into trouble for sculpting Western icons before the Tripartite Pact was signed. Please do it, I tried to reason with them as best as I could but—”

“Please do it? How could you do this to me? Y-you know what ha-happened and—” 

Kai’s body surged towards Sehun and he quickly moved back with a yelp. Hurt and regret flashed across Kai’s features. Sehun shook his head. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, I’m sorry.” Kai wrapped his hands around Sehun’s trembling ones, encasing the cold fingers in his warm clasp. “I shouldn’t have told them anything but once my superiors make up their mind about something they… I’m sorry Sehun I’m so selfish—I’ll find a way to convince them to drop this request.” 

Sehun opened his mouth, ready to tell Kai to go ahead, but then shook his head. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Kai pulled Sehun to him. Sehun could feel the medals on Kai’s uniform digging into the tender flesh of his chest. The slight discomfort was remedied by the way the coldness of the metal soothed his body, which exploded with heat at being in Kai’s embrace once again.

“It was also the only way they would allow me to continue seeing you.” Kai’s face pinked slightly as he mumbled words that made Sehun’s heart warm and his face blush. “I promise you that I’ll be with you at all times so you’ll have nothing to fear. I’ll protect you, Sehun. I promise.” 

Sehun hummed and raised his hands to gently rest against Kai’s sides, dropping and rolling his head on Kai’s broad and firm shoulders. He felt slightly more confident about stepping into a Japanese military building now that he knew Kai would be there with him. His thoughts turned to the intelligence he might overhear in that building and how he could make a contribution to the Resistance with such information and he cheered up a bit more. It was a nice idea but he didn’t think he could actually pull it off and his shoulders slumped. Even the idea of being in close enough proximity to the men to listen in on a conversation made him queasy and frightened. 

“They’ll pay you well and you can use the money to buy more supplies. I can work with you, I’m sorry I haven’t been helping like I said I—” Kai stopped at the sound of someone knocking. He stepped back turned his head towards the sound. 

Sehun gasped. Baekhyun. What was he supposed to do with Kai? Bending down, Sehun grabbed the candle and quickly blew it out. The knocks persisted, increasing in volume now.

“Who is that?” Kai whispered. 

“A friend,” said Sehun. “Um, it’s stuff for the Resistance.”

Kai frowned. “But I thought…” 

Sehun looked at him questioningly.

Kai shook his head quickly. “Please be careful. Let me help you.”

“No! It’s too dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous for you too!” 

“You’ve already helped us by giving me this gun.”

“I want to do more, Sehun.”

“I’ll let you help when you tell me why you want to help the Resistance fight against your country.”

Kai sighed. “Who are you going with?” he asked cautiously.

Sehun hesitated, but decided to tell Kai. After all he had already proved his loyalty, had he not? “Byun Baekhyun. He’s the son of—”

“Busan’s biggest collaborator,” Kai mused. “I didn’t know he was part of the official Resistance.” 

“What do you mean?”

“He feels very strongly about liberating Korea. Violently. He wasn’t afraid of sharing his opinions with me. I would have expected him to be part of perhaps an unofficial group, like the ones that go around killing soldiers.”

“He  _ is _ part of the official Resistance. That kind of stuff is what they do. I just joined today. My putting up posters was more of a… personal way of fighting back.”

Even in the dark Sehun could tell that Kai was surprised. “What? He didn’t tell me…” Kai trailed off, eyes widening. “Wait, then what’re you two doing tonight?”

Sehun shook his head. “I’m sorry Kai, I can’t say.”

“The Byun boy is dangerous. The things his Resistance does isn’t helpful to liberating Korea. In fact many times, they take more of a step backward. I would have expected the official Resistance to be more methodical and more keen on gathering intelligence to allow the impact of their activities to be on a grander scale. Killing soldiers and bombing transport trucks has usually resulted in innocent civilians being shot as punishment.  _ Please _ be cautious, Sehun.”

Sehun nodded.

“I’ve met the Byun boy a couple of times and he says some things that may not be entirely true. He’s quite brash. And a bit extreme.”

“He has good reason to! His mother died because the Japanese forced Koreans into poverty and hiked up drug prices!”

Kai flinched. “I-I know, I’m sorry. Just be careful and don’t let him pressure you into anything. Violence isn’t always the best way to fight back. You know that right?”

Sehun recalled the fervent expression on Baekhyun and Junmyeon’s face earlier that day when they had talked about the soldiers they killed, the vehemence with which they declared their hatred of the Japanese, and the undeniable pull he felt to the spirit and exploits of the two even if it had been laced with guilt towards Kai, and nodded. “Of course.”

“I—” Kai let out a breath. “Just know that not all of us are evil like the Byun boy or perhaps you believe, Sehun.”

Sehun’s heart clenched and he began walking to the front door. He knew that Kai wasn’t evil but Baekhyun certainly didn’t think so. Sehun felt torn between his love for Korea and a desire to free his people and his attachment to the young lieutenant His eyes misted. He turned around. “I think it’s best if you hide in here until we leave.”

Kai didn’t answer as Sehun moved past the curtains of his studio and towards the front door. He pulled it open and was met with a disgruntled Baekhyun who visibly cheered up when he saw Sehun. 

“I was worried that you got cold feet,” the small male said. He was dressed in all black and swung a sleek gun in his hands. 

Sehun shook his head. “Of course not.”

Baekhyun smiled and his teeth gleamed in the darkness. “Are you ready?”

Sehun took a deep breath. “Yes.” 

 

~

I wanted to bring this up earlier but forgot. Under Japanese colonial rule, Seoul was actually called Keijo, and before that, was known by other names during different eras. I thought that I would just use Seoul to avoid confusion.

The Tripartite Pact was a military agreement signed between Germany, Italy, and Japan on September 27, 1940 in Berlin. Germany at this point was under the control of Adolf Hitler and the Nazis. World War II began in 1939 with the Nazi invasion of Poland. At this point, in September 1940, the Germans had successfully invaded parts of Czechoslovakia, France, parts of Belgium, Norway, and Denmark, among many others. Mussolini, who was the fascist leader of Italy, joined the war in summer of 1940. At the time the Tripartite Pact was signed, the Italians were engaged in battle against the British in the North African Campaign which was to last until 1943 with an Italian loss. The fighting took place in Italian Libya, Egypt, French Algeria, Tunisia, and Morocco.

Thanks for reading!

 


	8. Underworld

Baekhyun hummed happily as he shoved Sehun into the passenger seat of his automobile and made his way around the protruding front of the vehicle to get into the driver’s seat. Baekhyun navigated the dimly lit streets, his happy chatter an indication that he had done this many times, while Sehun sat silently and pensively. He played with the gun in his pocket. The weapon slipped out of his hand and let out a menacing clicking sound. 

“What are you doing?” Baekhyun demanded, hushed. 

“Sorry,” Sehun whispered, hand frantically pulling the pistol out and clicking the safety button back into place. Baekhyun glanced at the weapon briefly and then swung his head back to look at it again. His eyes widened.

“Nice shot.” He sounded impressed.

Sehun shrugged uneasily. “Thanks?” 

“I didn’t know you had a gun. You don’t seem like the violent type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He wasn’t the violent type, though. And the gun  _ was _ a nice shot. It was sleek looked capable of killing someone with accuracy and precision. He was also now in the company of someone who committed homicide on a fairly regularly basis. The reality of the situation dawned on him and he felt a bit queasy. He took a deep breath. “You guys were talking about bringing guns to missions so I thought I’d bring mine,” he finished.

Baekhyun hummed and continued driving dangerously quickly along the narrow road. Soon, the crunch of gravel and the lurching of the automobile signalled that they were in the outskirts of the city, where imposing factories had invaded what was once serene and lush countryside. There were no street lamps here, only harsh white floodlights that were affixed to the factory walls at regular intervals. They illuminated the space in a ghostly haze of brightness that highlighted the terrifying sprawl of a cluster of factories, which in turn brought to attention the tyranny of Japanese rule. Sehun wondered where the weapons and armaments made in these factories would go. 

As if he sensed Sehun’s questions, Baekhyun gritted out, “Most of the weapons are now shipped to Japanese troops in China. They had to build three new factories here just to meet the demand. May I add that it was my dear father who was the one to accommodate the obviously harmless request.” Baekhyun suddenly looked sad. “And the rest goes to soldiers in Korea. Imagine that. A Korean man’s factories are churning out guns and explosives and bullets that lead to the roads being painted in red with Korean blood.”

Sehun closed his eyes, wincing as he remembered the first execution he had been forced to attend. Wanting to change the topic and remembering Luhan’s homesick expression earlier today, he asked, “How is the war in China by the way?”

Baekhyun shrugged. “Don’t really care.” 

“Huh?” Sehun was confused. Given Baekhyun’s loathing of the Japanese, he expected his hyung to have more sympathy for the Japanese invasion of China and subsequent occupation of the majority of the nation. “Korea and China have always had intimate ties. The Chinese are our friends.”

“I suppose,” Baekhyun sighed. “But now Korea is in danger and we must protect our own. Do you love your country, Sehun?”

“Of course!” 

“Sometimes you have to be a bit heartless to protect your own,” Baekhyun said quietly as he pulled Sehun behind him. Sehun followed Baekhyun mindlessly, arm scraping the cold cement occasionally, as they hugged the factory walls. He gestured for Sehun to stop moving before jogging up to a corner. 

The floodlights above them pierced like needles in Sehun’s eyes and made his vision slightly blurry. He didn’t register Baekhyun cocking out his gun, and pulling the trigger. He only came to recognize what had transpired when he heard a loud gurgle followed by the surprised yelp of men and the sound of footsteps running towards Baekhyun.  _ Soldiers. _ Fear gripped his heart and petrified his limbs. He wanted to scream, to warn Baekhyun, but couldn’t do so. Sehun clapped his hands over his ears as a staccato burst of gunfire and fiery flashes of light assaulted his senses. The uproar shocked him and invigorated his legs, sending him running to Baekhyun to pull him away from the bullets and into a safer area. 

It happened that this was not necessary. 

“Hyung!” Sehun cried when the gunshots stopped and when Baekhyun turned around to face him. Sehun looked at him, aghast. There was not a hair out of place on Baekhyun’s stylish self. “Are you alright?”

Baekhyun blew on the butt of his gun and the smell of cordite wafted towards Sehun’s nose. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?” He dropped the gun back into the deep pocket of his modish black trench coat and pulled out his father’s keys before sashaying to the factory doors. “Don’t worry, there aren’t any more of them. They typically send over just a couple to guard the entrance.” 

Sehun nodded, his ears still ringing from the shots. Sehun dared to look down and was met with the sight of five soldiers lying on the sharp gravel. The pallor of their faces looked even more deathly white in the harsh light. As Sehun stared at the motionless bodies on the ground, he spotted a faint ruddiness on their cheeks, the only sign that the soldiers had been living and breathing mere minutes ago, and this made an uneasy feeling well up inside him. 

Baekhyun suddenly stopped as if remembering something. He swivelled back around and stuck his hands in his pockets, digging around, creating a metallic clink. Sehun grimaced, wondering if Baekhyun was fetching more bullets to reload his gun. Instead, two fistfuls of coins emerged. At Sehun’s confused look, Baekhyun knelt down by the soldiers and pried open their dead mouths, placing in them a small mound of coins. 

“For the ferryman,” Baekhyun said, brushing invisible dust off his expensive clothes as he stood up.

Sehun shuffled nervously. 

“I thought you’d like the reference,” Baekhyun said, smiling at him. “I read about some of this stuff in books my father used to own about the Western world. Did you know that he burned all of them after to appease the Japanese? Pathetic.” 

Sehun stood silently now, unsure of how to respond.

“I’m not into that religious stuff. And I find Greek mythology ridiculous. But this practice is interesting,” Baekhyun murmured, dropping the leftover coins back into his pockets. “The Greeks viewed it as a payment to Charon. The Romans thought of this as a provision for the dead. The coin is supposed to be placed by family. I see it as a token, a last reminder of the life you led. When the Greeks and the Romans died, they carried nothing else but a coin.”

Sehun nodded, remembering reading about the custom in his art textbooks.

“I find the concept that you’re judged purely on your actions rather than wealth quite pleasing. I wonder if my father knows that.” 

“With all due respect hyung, I wouldn’t expect you to do this type of thing,” Sehun said, looking at the bodies again. He shivered as he imagined the souls of the soldiers stepping on to Charon’s rickety boat and being ferried across the Styx to the entrance of the Underworld. He wondered how the judging of this particular case would proceed. Would they be judged like other soldiers who had died in war or battle? Or would Rhadamanthus, Lord of Elysium and judge of men of Asia, see all of the terrible things these soldiers had done and be aware of the nationalistic and violent actions being promulgated by the empire these soldiers had sworn allegiance to? 

“They were killed in cold blood. Might as well have someone show them some benevolence,” Baekhyun shrugged. “I heard that the money is given to their families. I don’t know how helpful it is.”

Sehun was surprised that Baekhyun would perform such a considerate act.

As if sensing his disbelief, Baekhyun said softly, “My parents were Buddhist, although my dear father converted to Shinto after mother died. My parents used to tell me about the Buddhist concept of karma. I’ve done some pretty horrible things and… I guess this is my way of repentance.”

Sehun hummed, not sure how to react to having such a contemplative conversation with Baekhyun.

“I mean, I’m not trying to show these soldiers any sympathy. I don’t really care about them. They’re still all evil to me. But… this is dangerous work.” Baekhyun’s voice turned soft and sad as he whispered, “I just wish that when my time comes, someone will show some kindness towards me.”

“You have your father,” Sehun reminded gently. 

Baekhyun snorted. “I have nobody.”

Sehun opened his mouth to protest.

“Except for maybe you guys,” Baekhyun sighed. He drew his coat tighter around him and stomped towards the entrance. “We’ll grab their weapons when we leave.”

Sehun’s thoughts went back to classical mythos. He wondered what would happen to Baekhyun when the young fighter entered the Underworld. Would Baekhyun be seen as a hero and be judged among Aeneas, Orpheus, and Odysseus? Would Rhadamanthus see Baekhyun as a liberator who had died fighting against the oppression of his people? Would he be sent to the Elysian Fields to finally live a life that would be without danger, without hardship? Or would his hyung be seen as a wicked murderer and be cast into Tartarus? 

Sehun’s mind turned to his own life. Baekhyun was right; the Resistance was dangerous work. What would happened to him, should a mission not go as planned? Would he be condemned to eternal punishment? Or would he, a mere sculptor, simply be held in the Asphodel Meadows? Sehun supposed that he had not yet performed any particularly malicious task. But he had not done anything of great significance either; he was not brave, he had only his art to offer.

He looked at Baekhyun’s retreating backside. Could this work be considered heroic and good? Could he be granted Elysium? He would accept, of course; he would not mind a life free of pain, free of reminders of the death of his parents and his rape, free of living under oppression, free of mistrusting Kai, free of feeling so torn between things he really shouldn’t be that conflicted about. 

Or would he choose to be reborn? He did not have time to ponder this however, as Baekhyun was angrily yelling for Sehun to catch up. Obliging his hyung, Sehun traipsed towards the heavy metal doors that Baekhyun was holding open for him and slipped into the darkness of the building.

It was pitch black and Sehun couldn’t see a thing. His pupils dilated, searching. He heard a rustle behind him and quickly slapped his hands over his eyes as the factory was suddenly illuminated with light. Sehun brought his hands away from his face, wincing slightly, and gradually allowed his lids to bare his eyes to the mechanized interior. Metal pipes rose up from the ground, towering over the duo, and clung across the ceiling for great lengths. Conveyor belts formed a labyrinth in the space, tunneling through cavities in large machines that blinked with an array of little lights like a train tracks going through a cave.

Baekhyun handed him a hammer he had retrieved from a small cupboard. “Smash the machines.”

Baekhyun’s voice, which was usually quite playful, had suddenly turned cold and commanding. Gulping, Sehun gave a jerky nod and stumbled to the automaton closest to him. He ran his fingers lightly over the metal coils and flashing buttons of the steel contraption. This was also art. An engineer had probably slaved over this the way he toiled over his statues. A symphony of deafening crashes followed by a ear-piercing encore of beeps impelled Sehun to raise the hammer high above his head and to drop the weighty mallet on the metal anatomy of the machine. Panting, Sehun went over to another machine and smashed its metallic frame. 

When the clamour produced by Baekhyun died out and the beeping noises stopped, Sehun felt awkward swinging his hammer around without the accompanying background music. As he surveyed his surroundings, Sehun became acutely aware of the damage he had done. The air was hazy from fine dust that was beginning to settle. The floor was littered with the corpses of machines and Sehun had trouble remembering what the factory with all of its machines and maze of supply lines looked like among the scrap metal and smashed bits of concrete and tangled wires. 

“Good job,” Baekhyun’s voice came from behind him. 

A hand clapped on his shoulder. Sehun turned to look at his hyung, who was laden with the rifles of the dead soldiers outside. He grabbed three and Baekhyun shot him a grateful smile. 

Shifting the weapons so that they were squeezed between his elbow and side, Baekhyun drew a box of matches out of his pocket. 

Sehun sucked in a breath, guessing what Baekhyun was about to do. He began to shake as he recalled a soldier lighting one of his birthday candles and dropping it on the wooden floor and how a blazing inferno of heat and destruction had quickly flared to life. His swallowed as he remembered his shrieks of horror and cries of pain and the way the smoke scratched his throat on its way down. He remembered trying to struggle free from the licking flames but his lower half was numb with pain and he couldn’t move. Luckily, he had escaped being burned that day. But the memory was seared deep into his mind.

“I don’t normally do this,” Baekhyun mentioned as he made his way to a yellow jug and shot a hole in it with one of his newly acquired rifles. “But we need to celebrate our gaining a new member.” 

A clear liquid stained the concrete floor as it glugged out of the hole in its vessel and the toxic aroma of petrol assaulted Sehun’s nose, making him nauseous. He watched as Baekhyun lit a match and dropped the small stick of fire into the puddle. 

A fiery column of heat rose, twisting and curling viciously as though it were alive. Baekhyun screamed for Sehun and the two ran out of the building. Sehun pulled the door of the automobile shut and watched the factory erupt in flames from his window. He heard the sound of metal hitting the floor with sharp clangs and imagined the pipes falling over. 

The sound was not too different from human screams. 

“We’ll have to drive quickly,” Baekhyun whispered as he started the automobile. “I accidentally tripped their alarm system and they might be sending over reinforcements soon.” The sound of a distant rumbling was heard. “There they are now,” Baekhyun said as he pressed hard on the gas.

Sehun lurched back into the seat as they sped off back towards the city, leaving destruction in their wake. 

~

Sehun ran after Baekhyun as the latter sprinted down the plush hallway towards Baekhyun’s apartment. The elder fumbled with the key in his haste to enter. When he finally managed to unlock the door, Baekhyun rushed into the room. Sehun followed and saw Junmyeon rising from the sofa. It was covered with a cloth. The floor was also covered with sheets that were stained with smears of bright red. The decorative pillows had been tossed into the corners of the room, probably to prevent them from getting stained.

Sehun dared to inch farther into the room and saw two figures slumped on another sofa. He stifled a gasp. Their clothing was tattered and dirty, the sleeves of their shirts had been torn off, revealing bruised arms covered with old, matted wounds intermixed with fresh ones. They were covered with dust and dirt, and this made the red tracks created by the rivulets of blood that were continuing to flow stand out even more. One of them looked up as Sehun walked closer. His features, barely discernible amidst the darkness of the dirt and bruises and the redness of the blood and scabs on his face, looked defeated. However, as Sehun stepped closer, he saw in the young man’s doe eyes a spark of defiance. 

“When did you get here?” Baekhyun asked.

Junmyeon was returning from the kitchen with a pot of water and a heap of washcloths. “I just got here,” he said as he pushed the cloths into the warm water. 

“Where are the others who were in custody?” 

Junmyeon was silent.

“Were there no others?”

“When I got there, they were all dead,” Junmyeon said tightly. “Shot. Except for our two.” 

Baekhyun let out a breath. 

“Make them some soup, will you? And get Sehun his own pot of water.”

Baekhyun nodded, setting the pilfered rifles into a closet on his way to the kitchen. Sehun did the same, glad to have the weight of the weapons removed from his arms, before pattering back to Junmyeon nervously.

“Um, is there anything I can do to help?”

Junmyeon bit his lip. “Do you know how to clean wounds?”

Sehun nodded. Luhan had taught him some things. 

“If you go into Baekhyun’s room,” Junmyeon instructed as he wrung out the washcloths, “the last one down the hall, and go into his closet, you’ll find an armoire. There’s iodine in there and medical dressings.”

Sehun retrieved the supplies along with some of Baekhyun’s clothes. He and Junmyeon eased their patients off the sofa and on to the covered floor. Junmyeon unbuttoned their shirts to reveal two torsos in equally appalling condition. Wordlessly, Sehun wiped his hands with a washcloth and discarded it. Picking up another cloth, he began cleaning the wounds of one young man while Junmyeon attended to the other. 

His patient stared unwaveringly at him behind doe eyes, face twitching only occasionally from pain. Sehun threw him looks of apology as he cleaned the young man’s wounds with warm water and iodine. There were so many. The lacerations caused by whips were difficult to clean and many of the cuts and scrapes had become a foul yellow colour due to infection. He was unable to do anything about the bruises. Sehun let out a hiss when he gently turned the boy on to his side and spotted more injuries on his back. It was a long while before Sehun finished cleaning the wounds and applying dressings. He sat back, chest heaving from exertion. He glowered at the pot which once had been full of clear water and was now practically opaque, and a malicious reddish-brown colour. He helped the boy into a pair of fresh clothes. 

“Kyungsoo,” the boy Sehun had treated rasped before clearing his throat. “Do Kyungsoo.”

“Oh Sehun.”

“Hey. I didn’t know you would be so pretty,” Kyungsoo whispered, smiling in spite of the pain that he must be feeling. “Junmyeon said we went to the same school.”

Sehun nodded awkwardly. Kyungsoo looked so vulnerable and tired lying down with the patchwork of white compresses on his body, although Sehun did not have any difficulty in seeing the boldness that this boy surely possessed. He looked over at Junmyeon. 

“That’s Kim Jongdae,” Kyungsoo said, tapping his fingers on the shoulders of the injured boy beside him. 

“How do you do,” Jongdae wheezed, rolling over from his side on to his back to button up one of Baekhyun’s shirts. 

“Where’d you learn to do that?” Junmyeon asked, wiping a red hand across his forehead.

“What?” Sehun asked. 

“Treat people,” Junmyeon replied. “You did everything so expertly.”

Sehun shrugged. “A friend taught me.”

“Food’s here!” chimed Baekhyun as he wobbled out of the kitchen, gripping a large tray laden with bowls of kimchi stew which he placed on the coffee table. He went back and emerged with a large plate of steamed buns and a tea set. Kyungsoo and Jongdae were in no condition to move around so they decided to eat on the floor.

Sehun and Junmyeon helped Kyungsoo and Jongdae sit up before heading over to the washroom to rinse their hands. They joined the others in the sitting room and makeshift hospital. 

Baekhyun handed Sehun a large bowl of hot stew. Sehun bowed in thanks.

“Kyungsoo and Jongdae are the two members we told you about,” Junmyeon said between bites of bun. “They were captured in a raid that didn’t go as planned.”

“Stop blaming yourself,” Kyungsoo scolded. 

“What do you guys do?” Sehun asked in a bid to lighten the atmosphere. 

“I’m the technician,” Jongdae said. “And Kyungsoo is our resident crazed murderer.”

Kyungsoo made a move to swat the boy but stopped and flinched slightly in pain. “I prefer the term sniper. And you should talk. All you do all day is tinker with bits of metal.”

Sehun cracked a smile at the bickering and took a sip of his soup, realizing how famished he was. 

“Junmyeon told us a bit about you,” Jongdae said. “You make nice posters.”

The others whooped and Sehun smiled shyly.

“So what were you doing with that officer?” Kyungsoo asked. “The day of the Chuseok fair.”

Sehun squirmed. “Um, he commissioned a statue and we were talking, you know, prices and whatnot.”

“If you’re in need of money, just come to me, Sehun,” Baekhyun said, his eyes suddenly steely. “Stay away from him. I worry for your safety.”

Sehun swallowed the bite in his mouth too quickly and choked. Kyungsoo thumped his back lightly as Sehun rasped out, “I did stay away, hyung.”

Baekhyun sighed. “You have much work to do on your lying,” he said, clanking his spoon back into his bowl. “I saw him go into your apartment tonight.”

Sehun’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. 

“I got to your place fairly early and then I heard those boots coming up the stairs. I thought that they’d found out about you or something. I ran to the floor above and was going to pull out my gun to shoot him, but imagine my surprise when I saw that it was the same officer from the fair and that you let him into your place.” Baekhyun didn’t look impressed.

Sehun ducked his head down, feeling like a scolded child. 

“Don’t be too harsh on him, Baek,” Junmyeon said reproachfully. “We’re not suggesting anything.”

“Have you seen Kyungsoo and Jongdae?” Baekhyun demanded. “Less than a week in custody and look at the state of them.”

“They shot all the others,” Jongdae whispered, sounding haunted. “There were a bunch of others in the holding cells with us who had been suspected of resistance. When the Japanese got their hands on us two, they should have been released. But they chose instead to shoot them. Killed in cold blood, they were.” 

An uncomfortable silence enveloped them. 

“Jongdae and I will now have to stay in hiding,” Kyungsoo sighed. “Imagine having to fear going outside into your own hometown because you’ll be slaughtered.” 

A tear made its way down Sehun’s cheek. He quickly wiped it away. Kyungsoo patted his back lightly.

“It wouldn’t hurt to stay away from him,” Junmyeon added quietly. “We’re only concerned for your safety.”

Sehun nodded, his face reddening. 

“Yeah and Junmyeon told us that we’re your hyungs, so you have to listen to us,” Kyungsoo teased. 

Jongdae chortled. “Kyungsoo’s just glad that he’s not the maknae anymore.” He stopped chuckling as a bun hit his head. 

“Let’s just be casual with each other, alright?” Baekhyun said, back to his normal self now that they were off the topic of the Japanese.

Sehun nodded, and grasped the hand Baekhyun held out to him gratefully. Sehun was buzzing with contentment from the success of his first mission and was happy at how quickly they had seemingly accepted him into their little circle. He was elated that he was doing something to help combat the Japanese.

They continued eating. The atmosphere was warm. The young fighters treated each other like brothers. His thoughts turned to Luhan and Sehun wished he could bring Luhan into this little fold. Perhaps he could work something out with his ge later. 

Junmyeon held up his teacup. “Welcome to the family. To Sehun!” he cried. The others followed suit.

~

“Let me drive you home.” Baekhyun followed Sehun to the door after the younger had bid farewell to the others and promised to visit Kyungsoo and Jongdae, who would be staying in Baekhyun’s apartment in the foreseeable future, soon.

“That’s not necessary, I can walk. Besides, you’ve had a long day.”

Baekhyun shook his head firmly. “It’s a long way and you’ve had a long day.” He exited the flat and Sehun followed with a sigh. 

Baekhyun started the engine as Sehun settled himself into the seat.

“You did well today,” Baekhyun commented as he drove. “I hope you weren’t uncomfortable with any of the things we did.”

Sehun shook his head lightly. “I’m glad to help.”

Baekhyun sighed. “I’m sorry if I was too harsh today.”

“No, you were right.”

Baekhyun shifted his hands on the steering wheel. “It’s no secret that I hate the Japanese. I think if it was just because of my father’s collaboration, I wouldn’t hate them this much. But since I joined the Resistance, I saw things.”

“Like Kyungsoo and Jongdae?”

“Those injuries are nothing compared to some of the other stuff I’ve seen. When I see my people being beaten into that state and living like the way they are now, my hatred just surges. And then when I see my father, practically kissing the ground the Japanese walk on, I get even more angry.”

“Who else is in it?” Sehun asked. “In the Resistance?”

“There were others but they were killed during a raid a couple of years ago. It’s just us five now.”

Sehun’s heart warmed at being included. “That’s…” 

“We’re low in numbers but we make up for it in ability,” Baekhyun said as he winked playfully at Sehun. “Besides, there are bunch of other pockets that aren’t official but still do what they can to fight back. It’s inspiring.”

Sehun thought of himself and Luhan.

“Like you,” Baekhyun said. “I’m glad you joined us, Sehun.”

Sehun thought of the way the factory had caught fire and of the way Kai’s face had looked after Sehun told him about Baekhyun. He recalled the way his parents had been murdered, how the soldiers had raped him and set fire to his home, and saw in his mind again Kyungsoo and Jongdae’s injuries. 

“I’m glad too.”

Baekhyun smiled as he turned a corner. 

“Wait!” Sehun cried. He angled his head against the window to see where they were. “I think you missed my house.” 

“Ah sorry,” Baekhyun said. 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just walk home. It’s not far from here.” He opened the door and stepped out. They weren’t too far away from Luhan’s apartment either. The thought of visiting his ge crossed his mind before he remembered that Luhan might still be busy with his job. “What time is it?”

Baekhyun looked as his wrist, which was decorated with a flashy watch. “A little after midnight. Why?”

Sehun shrugged. “No reason. Just—”

“Sehun?” 

His head whipped around at a familiar voice. “Luhan!” He ran over and hugged his ge, hating how he could feel how thin Luhan had become even through the thick fabric of the elder’s coat. 

Laughing lightly, Luhan carefully pried Sehun’s hands off. 

“Why are you out here?” Sehun asked. 

“Work ended a bit early today. A bunch of the customers had to leave for some reason.” 

Sehun hummed. “Take care of yourself, ge. Go home and sleep.”

Luhan rolled his eyes. “Look at you, my baby brother, all grown up.” His eyes went over to Baekhyun, who had gotten out of his car and was looking at the two.

“What’re you doing here anyway?” Luhan asked a bit tersely. “And who’s that?”

“He’s part of the Resistance.” 

Relief took over Luhan’s face. “You recruited more members?”

“Um, no, I joined the official Resistance.” 

“What? Sehun, I think you should try to steer clear of those people,” Luhan whispered, looking a bit anxious as Baekhyun started walking towards them.

“Why? They’re so brave!”

“Recklessness and bravery aren’t the same thing, Sehun.” 

“What would you know?” Baekhyun stepped in front of Sehun almost protectively. 

“Baekhyun what are you—”

Baekhyun hushed Sehun. “You’re Chinese.”

Luhan’s mouth twitched. “I am. So?”

“We want our country back and we’ll do whatever it takes to do that. No one else is willing to help us. You don’t understand the Korean context to this. You’ll never understand.”

“You think I don’t understand what it’s like for the Japanese to occupy your home? China wants to be free too, just like Korea. The Japanese invaded my country in 1931 while the world watched in silence!”

“Then you should understand.”

“You’re too extreme,” Luhan retorted. “You’re too violent. The only thing you accomplish is bringing harm to the people of Busan.”

“Violence is sometimes necessary.”

“No it isn’t. Things should be carried out systematically. With thought and strategy so that one blow brings about the most damage to the enemy and the least repercussion to you.” 

“Yeah?” Baekhyun taunted, taking a menacing step towards Luhan. Sehun gripped Baekhyun’s arms, trying to pull him back. “And how’s that working for you?”

Sehun’s hands went lax. “Baekhyun!” he hissed angrily.

“The Japanese have been in your country for nine years now. Practically a decade. And how successful have your countrymen’s efforts been to remove them?” Baekhyun’s lip curled in victory as Luhan’s face crumpled. “The Japanese may have been in Korea since 1910, but we weren’t actively at war with them as your country is right now. Previous resistance groups were playing it too safe. And besides, things will change now. For Korea. Because of us. We know what we’re doing.” 

“You’re speaking nonsense. You think it’s that easy to drive out the Japanese?”

“China is full of collaborators. Is that why you’re trying so hard to lure Sehun away?” Baekhyun demanded. “You hanjian!”

Sehun gasped. “Baekhyun, leave, please.” 

Throwing Luhan a last look, Baekhyun stalked back to his car. 

Luhan’s face was white and he was quivering from anger. He turned to Sehun, looking desperate. “Stay away from him, Sehun, please.” 

Sehun shook his head slowly, sadly. “I-I… can’t. I’ll be careful Luhan. Please trust me. Don’t worry.” 

Luhan nodded reluctantly. “I’ll walk you home.” He took a step towards Sehun and a thin volume fell out of Luhan’s coat. Sehun bent to pick it up. “Here ge,” Sehun said, handing the book to Luhan with both hands. Sehun froze as the cover was made visible by the street lamps. 

There was Japanese on the cover and it looked to be a textbook of some kind. Sehun’s mouth dropped open in shock. “Please don’t tell me…” 

“Wait, Sehun, it’s not what it looks like, let me—”

“Sehun!” Baekhyun yelled from his car, sticking his head out of the window. “I’ll drive you home!” 

Sehun took a step back from Luhan as Baekhyun began pressing the horn. “I’ll see you,” he whispered before running to Baekhyun’s car. As they sped away, Sehun caught one last glimpse of Luhan, looking at the retreating car, hands clenched around the textbook.

 

~ 

Oh no, Luhan. T.T

The word hanjian (hànjiān, 汉奸) is basically a derogatory term for someone who is a traitor to China and in certain cases, the Han ethnicity. It’s kinda like the Chinese equivalent of the word builbae.

Don’t clean your wounds with iodine. It’s too strong for human skin, especially on open wounds. I only put that because they used that to clean wounds in a lot of my historical fiction novels.

Sorry for more boring notes, but my nature compels me to do this. Rhadamanthus was one of the three judges in the Underworld. He judged people from Asia and was also the Lord of Elysium. The other two judges were Aeacus, who judged shades from Europe, and Minos, who had the final vote. Generally people who did terrible things were sent to Tartarus and people who didn’t do much good or bad were sent to the Asphodel Meadows. Elysium, or the Elysian Fields, was generally reserved for relatives of the gods, but later was expanded to allow people who were righteous and heroic.

Thanks for reading! And thanks for the comments! You guys are honestly too precious. <3

 


	9. Letter

As the leaves on the trees outside fell, so did Sehun’s hopes that Kai would visit him again. September turned into October, and October into November. He’d waited for the lieutenant to visit and had been scared that he would be dragged off into a military stronghold to sculpt or that Baekhyun would somehow find out about Kai’s visit and that he would have to face the full wrath of his hyung. He was not too worried anymore; he had yet to see Kai.

This was the second time Kai neglected him for so long, he thought, then rebuked his forlorn thoughts and himself fiercely for caring. Sehun had dedicated much of his thoughts to the young officer these past several weeks and had come to a conclusion that it was only an attraction and nothing else. It was purely physical. And who could blame him? Kai’s radiant beauty was brighter even than the sun Apollo drove across the heavens. He groaned at the direction his thoughts were heading in and closed the newspaper he was reading with an irritated sigh.

He started reading more these days, looking into new material outside of the art world. He opted for books regarding Korean history and wars throughout history in addition to newspapers that detailed the war in Europe and China, and tried to draw his own analyses of the military situation with the aid of these texts, supplemented with information Jongdae told him whenever he went to visit his hyungs.

Sehun got off the couch and wandered around his apartment aimlessly. After the factory attack and rescue of Kyungsoo and Jongdae, security had been amped up once again. There were no direct repercussions on Busan or its citizens, thankfully, but it had brought the activities of the Resistance to a brief standstill.

He had initially wanted to dedicate all of his time to sculpting but found that he couldn’t quite muster up the effort to do so. He couldn’t draw his sketches either. It was as if some invisible force was preventing him from doing so.

He hadn’t started a new work since Kai’s Apollo, which was still sitting in his studio. He had been eyeing Persephone the past couple of days, however. Although he had been satisfied with the state of Persephone’s face that Kai saw and liked, he couldn’t help noticing that there was a missing element to the work he couldn’t quite place his finger on. No matter how hard he thought and tried, he was not able to capture this missing link and gave up, deciding that he was better off with Persephone as she was and not wanting to mangle her face.

There was nothing to do these days.

Sehun ventured into his studio and admired his creations. He went over to his desk and slumped over it. He pulled out a sheaf of blank paper for sketches and posters from underneath the envelope with Kai’s money, where it had sat, untouched, and shook the dust off the sheets. His eye caught on his watercolours and pastels and suddenly he didn’t feel so bored anymore. He went into his room and pulled a box out of the cabinet and carried it into the studio. Inside were the posters and drawings he had yet to deliver.

He traced his fingers over the details on the vibrant painted robes of Empress Myeongseong, taking care not to smudge the pastel finish. She had advocated and worked to remove Korea from the Japanese sphere of influence that enveloped Asia after the Chinese were defeated in the First Sino-Japanese War, and because of this, had been brutally assassinated by the Japanese. Her pale, painted face, was delicate but also showed the strength of her character. The slogan he wrote called for Koreans to honour her.

Sehun set the completed artwork aside and went to the kitchen to fill a jar with water. He cleared the desk and picked up his brush nervously before dipping it into watercolour. It had been a while. He wasn’t sure what to portray but did not think much of it; he just placed his brush on the paper and painted. Surprisingly, it came easier to him than sculpting.

When he finished, he looked at his work with raised brows. It was a skillful depiction of the Japanese invasions of Korea in the 1590s during the Imjin War. The poster showed Japanese troops landing in Busan and climbing up Geumjeongsan. The Japanese, led then by Toyotomi Hideyoshi, had been vanquished and pushed out of Korea with the aid of guerilla warfare, righteous armies that were composed of civilians, and Ming dynasty warriors from China. Resistance had been successful then. Sehun sighed. They were not successful this time.

Or perhaps they could be? While enjoying a late lunch, he finished up his paper and read of the latest news on a major Chinese offensive that earlier reports called the Battle of South Guangxi. Was the war turning, he wondered. Sehun read the statistics and cringed. Things did not look good for China. A knock on the door startled him and his cheeks flushed. He rushed to the door and opened it quickly. Nope, not Kai. His shoulders slumped as he sighed.

“Hey,” an unimpressed-looking Baekhyun greeted.

Sehun turned around, not wanting Baekhyun to see just how red his face was and wandered back into his studio. Baekhyun followed him and hummed in approval when he saw the posters.

“The Imjin War?” Baekhyun asked, pointing his chin at Sehun’s still wet poster.

He nodded, fanning his hand over the work.

“Are you done?”

Sehun shook his head. “I’m going to add details and a slogan in pastel once it dries.”

Baekhyun looked at his other posters and the two enjoyed a comfortable silence. Sehun started work on a new poster while he waited for the wet one to dry.

“You should keep your money in a safer place,” Baekhyun said.

“Huh?”

Baekhyun patted Kai’s envelope. Sehun froze. The elder snuck a peek inside and whistled. Sehun shut his eyes, waiting. The whistle died down and Sehun opened his eyes to find Baekhyun’s gaze frozen on a golden embossed chrysanthemum on the envelope, the Imperial Seal of Japan.

“I tried not to accept it but…” Sehun began protesting, but he sounded weak even to his own ears.

Baekhyun shook his head. “You should come work at my house. Junmyeon, Kyungsoo, and Jongdae miss you. I think they prefer your company over mine.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

Baekhyun narrowed his eyes playfully at Sehun before taking the art supplies into his arms. “I’ll help you carry your stuff,” he offered before walking out. Sehun sighed and gathered up his art, putting the wet poster on top before exiting his studio.

Baekhyun pulled out a bag Sehun normally used for groceries and carefully placed the paints and pastels into it before rifling around in Sehun’s pantry and opening the icebox. “You should stay for dinner,” Baekhyun commented. “If that Jap is willing to give you all that money, you should at least spend it, gosh.”

Sehun shoved Baekhyun out of the kitchen and towards the door, the elder laughing. Baekhyun held the posters with one hand while Sehun pulled out his keys. As he locked his door shut, he heard another one open.

“Sehun?”

“Chanyeol!” he exclaimed, turning around.

“Long time no see,” the giant grinned. “Haha.”

Sehun nodded. Chanyeol had stopped showing up for lunches after the Chuseok fair. “We should have lunch sometime.”

“You’re right,” Chanyeol said, smiling, before shifting his attention to Baekhyun.

“Uh, Baekhyun, this is my friend and neighbour, Park Chanyeol. Chanyeol, this is my close friend Byun Baekhyun.”

“Nice to meet you.” Baekhyun beamed.

Sehun raised his brow at the sight of his neighbour’s ears reddening slightly and quickly took the posters out of Baekhyun’s grasp so his hyungs could shake hands. He hid the posters behind his back and hoped that Chanyeol had not looked at them too closely.

“Likewise,” the giant mumbled before clearing his throat. There was a pause as the two parties struggled for something to say. “I think I’ve met your father,” Chanyeol said finally. “He seems like a nice guy.”

Sehun smacked himself due to both the cringe-worthy topic of choice and the mention of the elder Byun in front of the man’s son. To Sehun’s surprise however, Baekhyun didn’t explode, but gave a rather tight smile instead.

“I’ve got to go,” Baekhyun said, sounding regretful. “Maybe I’ll see you some other time?”

Chanyeol bobbed his head happily. “Any friend of Sehun’s and all that.”

Baekhyun threw Chanyeol another glance as he followed Sehun down the stairs.

~

Baekhyun showed up at Sehun’s door the next morning, and did so for the rest of November.

December came, and by then, they’d established a routine. The Byun son would knock loudly on Sehun’s door to wake him up, and chat with Chanyeol while Sehun got ready. Then all three would head outside, Sehun, a bundle of blank poster paper, and Baekhyun into the latter’s automobile and Chanyeol to the tram stop to head to his restaurant.

Baekhyun had insisted that Sehun should always work on the posters at the elder’s house. His hyung had explained that it would help to acquaint himself better with the rest of the Resistance, and while Sehun was extremely glad that he was spending more time with the hyungs he’d grown incredibly fond of, Sehun knew that the real reason was because Baekhyun was trying to keep Sehun away from Kai. Sehun sighed. _He still doesn’t trust me._

“What’s bothering you?” he heard Baekhyun ask.

Sehun shook his head. “Nothing.” He didn’t mind working at Baekhyun’s. His hyungs would help him make posters during the day and distribute them at night, with help from the schedule Luhan had given him in the summer. With the help of the others, Sehun was able to increase his art volume and there was no need to stash the posters anymore; they were plastered almost as soon as they were made throughout all of Busan. When buying groceries at the market and paper from the art supply store, he could hear his countrymen talking about the posters in hushed tones and he would smile to himself. No, he didn’t mind being away from his home, but he couldn’t help wondering if Kai had called while he was out.

Baekhyun grumbled but didn’t pry. “How’s your Chinese friend?”

“Huh?” Sehun angled his head to look at his hyung. “Why?” Sehun paid several visits to Luhan’s place a week after discovering the Japanese textbook, doubts and worries preventing an earlier visit, but his ge was nowhere to be seen on any of those occasions. The box filled with cash was also nowhere to be seen.

As was the norm these days when thinking about Luhan, Sehun’s mind drifted to the textbook. Why did he have that book? Was he… Sehun shook his head, refusing to let himself even ponder the possibility that Luhan could be a collaborator. His ge was no hanjian. He remembered Baekhyun’s biting words and cringed. His hyung had been too harsh.

Sehun’s eyes shifted to the papers in his lap. He felt better making posters, felt less guilty for harming others, even if they were the enemy, and potentially putting the townspeople of Busan into danger. While there was still talk of violence going on—Baekhyun told him that today they were to begin planning for a major offensive that was to be carried out soon—he wasn’t physically doing anything.

He was constantly pushed into pits of guilt and despair at what he had done with Baekhyun, even if the action was months ago. Sehun was an accomplice to multiple murders and arson. He was trying to fight back against Japanese oppression, he would tell himself. It would placate him temporarily and then he would feel a surge of remorse rising in his chest again. Was he—was Baekhyun—any better than the people who killed his parents and set fire to his home given the things that Baekhyun had done while he stood idly by?

He had voiced his concerns to his hyungs, but was met with a wall of incredulous stares and Jongdae’s wheezy chuckles that were produced in a poor attempt to diffuse the awkward situation.

Baekhyun had rebuked him sharply, just as he had done the night of Sehun’s first mission, and fought guilt with guilt by reminding Sehun of all of the terrible things the Japanese had done.

When he and Luhan had started distributing posters, they agreed that the most they could accomplish was to encourage the Koreans to hold on to their identity and heritage and hope that one day the Japanese would be driven out. It didn’t look like it would be happening anytime soon, however, and Sehun found himself submitting to Baekhyun’s insistence—probably due to his spending too much time with the man—that perhaps violence was the only way to wage resistance at this time. From what he saw on newspapers and what the others told him, the Chinese were losing the war, and the few victories they managed were always accompanied by heavy losses for the Chinese. He followed the situation in China closely, whereas the others were largely indifferent to the war there; they received news but did not dwell on them. He saw a couple of days ago that the Battle of South Guangxi ended with a Chinese victory, although the casualties and damages for the winning side were devastating.

“There was a major offensive launched by the Chinese in August,” Baekhyun began.

“The Hundred Regiments Offensive,” Sehun interrupted, remembering something he’d read. “Led by Peng Dehuai.”

“Yeah, mostly by the communist forces in northern China,” Baekhyun continued.

Sehun remained mum, uncertain of where this was heading.

“It was a success. The campaign ended yesterday. Jongdae heard a transmission last night made by some people in Seoul.”

“That’s great,” Sehun said hesitantly. They’d managed to retrieve all of Jongdae’s equipment from where he and Kyungsoo used to live, and the technician spent his days trying to get a signal from other resistance groups in other cities. Radios that were not issued by the Japanese government were strictly forbidden, as was tuning into transmissions that were anti-Japanese or not approved by the government. The other groups largely rejected any attempts made by Jongdae to contact them, not wanting to give them intelligence given the nature of the missions carried out by the Busan Resistance. That had postponed the planning process for future missions, as they had to wait until Jongdae was able to collect sufficient information from listening in to radio broadcasts.

Baekhyun nodded. “But I think it’s also important to note that this has been the first major offensive launched by the Chinese in a long time. Isn’t it interesting that when they are the first to attack, the first to inflict violence, things work out in their favour?”

Sehun kept quiet, trying not to cringe. It was as if Baekhyun could sniff out remnants of guilt that clung to him still. It was unusual for Baekhyun analyze a military operation in such detail.

“It was a fantastic success but there were terrible casualties on both sides.”

“Another Pyrrhic victory,” Sehun sighed.

“Your friend who speaks of methodical approaches knows nothing. The Chinese planned this for quite some time, yet they still sustained heavy losses and the Japanese are not yet out of their country.”

“The communists lack resources,” Sehun protested, “and information. The Guomindang as well.”

“No, it’s because there were a bunch of Chinese collaborators working for the Japs.”

Sehun looked down. He read about the Reorganized National Government of China that was based in Nanjing, a city the Japanese brutally took in December of 1937, and how its puppet leader Wang Jingwei and many Chinese soldiers now served the Japanese. He saw Baekhyun glancing at him and did not like the look on the elder’s face.

“Eyes on the road, Baek!” Sehun cried.

Baekhyun rolled his eyes. “So we’re agreed that collaborators are vermin. Good. You might not like the sound of this but hear me out alright? We’re beginning preparations for an operation that’ll happen pretty soon.” The smaller male took a deep breath. “There’s going to be this large gathering of a bunch of Japanese officers and high-profile collaborators soon. In many ways, a builbae is worse than a Jap. We’re planning on planting bombs and then raiding the meeting place.”

Sehun’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he choked.

Baekhyun took a hand off the steering wheel to thump Sehun’s back.

“Are you insane?” Sehun wheezed.

Baekhyun shrugged. “Before Junmyeon let me into the Resistance I think was starting to go a little crazy, being cooped up in the apartment all the time.”

Sehun shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he coughed. “Do you even know where the meeting’s going to be? It’s too risky, hyung. They surround the buildings they’re in with soldiers on an ordinary day. Can you imagine what the security is going to look like during a meeting like that?” He fidgeted anxiously in his seat.

“The city hall. We’ll manage a way in.”

Sehun froze. He was pretty sure Kai’s office was in the city hall. What if they hurt him? He supposed that he could find some way to warn him beforehand, maybe through Chanyeol. He came into contact with many officers through his restaurant and one of them was bound to know Kai.

“And Kyungsoo is a brilliant sniper. We’ll lay landmines around the building at night. Any soldiers that survive the explosion will be finished off by Kyungsoo…” Baekhyun trailed off and slowed the automobile as a Japanese officer drunkenly stumbled against it. Baekhyun yelled. A girl, most likely a courtesan, trotted after the man, holding his arm for support, and turned around to bow to Baekhyun in apology.

“A kisaeng,” Sehun whispered.

“Glorified prostitute,” Baekhyun corrected. “Taking collaboration to another level.”

“Huh?”

“The only visitors to brothels nowadays are soldiers. The common citizen can’t afford that stuff. What’s worse are the ones that they keep in military buildings. I’ve seen some of them when my father dragged me to functions. They dress them up in kimonos and then ask the girls to pretend to be oiran. They act all innocent and serve you tea, but everyone’s aware of what they do with the officers behind closed doors. Sometimes they don’t even bother closing the door.”

“Times are tough,” Sehun mumbled with a red face, thinking of Kai’s commission money. “Maybe they just want to make a living.”

“You should see them though,” Baekhyun insisted. “They slobber all over those Japs, it’s repulsive. And if they want to make a living, why can’t they work as a waitress in a Korean restaurant or a babysitter or something? The Japs have already taken so much from us. Is a couple of yen worth giving away your dignity?”

Sehun tried to change the subject as they reached their destination. “You guys told me that you were starting plans for the mission today.” He pouted cutely. “But it already sounds like you’ve covered pretty much everything.”

Baekhyun chuckled as he parked the car.

“Sehunnie!” Jongdae greeted cheerfully when the two entered Baekhyun’s home.

“Hi hyung,” he said, giving a slight bow. Sehun ducked his head as he received a smack from Kyungsoo who’d somehow crept up behind him.

“Stop being so formal,” Kyungsoo chided, tossing a grin at the maknae.

Sehun stuck his tongue out.

Junmyeon stuck his head out from the kitchen and sang that breakfast was ready. Sehun pottered to the kitchen, the others following him, mindful not to trip over the pillows and Jongdae’s technology that were scattered across the floor. The flat was noticeably messier than the first time Sehun laid eyes on it, as Baekhyun had stopped calling for cleaning services, fearful that Kyungsoo and Jongdae would be discovered, but Sehun felt that the house looked more cozy and lived-in this way.

Over congee and boiled eggs, the boys discussed the upcoming mission. It was risky, Sehun decided, but it was certainly a very brave proposal. His parents’ generation of fighters had been playing it too safe; perhaps Junmyeon was right and that was why they had failed to drive the Japanese out of his hometown. Not that their methods were any more effective, but at least they were all still alive. The feelings that his posters stirred up in him were amplified by the factory damage and the knowledge that the Japanese had shot innocent people in their holding cells upon capturing Kyungsoo and Jongdae. Sehun was worried about how the Japanese would react to such an attack and how they would take out their outrage on Busan, but bit his tongue. He felt terrible that he was conspiring to shoot Koreans. They were builbae, sure, but they were still his countrymen nonetheless.

“So after the landmines go off, there will be bombs that go off inside the building too,” Kyungsoo said.

“Timing will be crucial,” Junmyeon sighed, peeling an egg.

“And we need to find some way to get the bombs into the city hall,” Sehun added.

The others nodded, and looked at Baekhyun. The collaborator’s son shrugged. “I can probably use father’s influence to get in, but no guarantees.”

“That’s good enough,” Jongdae smiled.

After breakfast, they worked on logistics for the upcoming mission and for the rest of the day, they painted with Sehun’s supplies which were now stored at Baekhyun’s place. Sehun’s hyungs teased each other over their lack of artistic ability, which often ended in comically disproportionate people or unrecognizable objects decorating his posters.

“I call it abstract,” Kyungsoo insisted stubbornly while the others collapsed on the floor in laughter over his attempts to draw a ship as they reviewed the posters over dinner.

Night fell and Sehun stifled a giggle as he saw the drawings the others made while shuffling the bundle of posters and drawings that he was to distribute. He watched Baekhyun shove a gun into the pockets of his coat. Sehun left his own at home now.

They had to wait until it was completely dark and until they could be sure that they wouldn’t run into anyone in the halls on their way out. Upper-class residential areas were dense with Japanese sympathizers and collaborators. They went off in pairs; Sehun with Baekhyun, and Junmyeon with Kyungsoo. Jongdae stayed behind to watch the house and to work on his radios. He was trying to pick up on weaker signals and hopefully on Japanese transmissions to glean intelligence. His efforts so far were largely unsuccessful, although during dinner, he did manage to pick up on a radio signal nearby that was, strangely enough, being broadcast in what sounded like Chinese.

Using the patrol schedule, Sehun and Baekhyun finished off their lot fairly quickly and Baekhyun geared up his vehicle to drive Sehun home.

Sehun fell asleep on the drive home. Baekhyun shook him awake and Sehun wearily exited the car. Baekhyun hopped up the steps to Sehun’s floor, excited for a brief moment with Chanyeol. The giant’s increasingly busy schedule at his restaurant and Baekhyun’s role in the Resistance meant that they could see only each other was outside Sehun’s home.

Chanyeol’s door was wide open and he was leaned against Sehun’s closed door. He leapt up when he saw Baekhyun. “Hi,” the giant greeted bashfully.

“Oooooh,” Sehun crooned, managing to stretch the word into seven syllables. Baekhyun swatted Sehun’s arm and hugged Chanyeol happily.

Sehun smiled at the two and unlocked his door.

“Sehun?” Chanyeol called.

“Hm?” Sehun mumbled, stepping into his apartment.

“Your officer stopped by. He told me to give you this.” Chanyeol pulled out an envelope from his breast pocket. Sehun felt his body surge towards the envelope but held himself and accepted it calmly, ignoring Baekhyun’s death glare.

“Goodnight,” Sehun said cheerfully as he shut his door quickly. He immediately flipped on the lights and stared at the envelope with bated breath. He squeezed it. He hoped that it was not money. He took a closer look and realized that it was not an envelope like the one that his payment had been stuffed in; this one did not have an embossed seal and seemed to be handmade, out of a blank sheet of paper that was folded and glued. There was a small picture of a mountain and a river, and two stick figures in the water. One was triumphantly holding up a fish roughly the same size as the mountain. Sehun giggled and ran his hands over the drawing. He carefully peeled back the tape that sealed the envelope and removed the contents. A letter.

He turned off the lights in the entryway and went instead into his bedroom, lighting a candle and placing it on his nightstand. He plopped down on his bed and gently unfolded the letter, hands trembling.

_Sehun,_

_I am sorry that I was not able to visit you these past months. There was something I had to attend to and I did not want you to get into trouble with the Byun boy. I felt someone watching me enter your apartment the last time I visited and think I am correct in assuming that it was him. I apologize if I’ve caused any tension between the two of you._

_I am writing this to tell you that I shall be here tomorrow morning at 9 o’clock. I will be bringing two men with me to carry the Apollo that you so beautifully crafted to my quarters. My superiors also requested that you pay a visit to the main office so that you can begin work on a statue. I promise that I will be with you at all times and that you needn’t worry._

_I know that you’ve been putting up more posters. I’m glad that your Resistance has stopped with these reckless activities, but I’m sure it’s only temporary. I hope that you didn’t get hurt the night of the factory burning. Please don’t get yourself into any danger. Love of country is important and virtuous, but survival should be your first priority. You may become angry with me for saying this but I think that in many ways you’ll be safer with me at the office. The sheer number posters has drawn a lot of attention and I heard orders given yesterday to hunt down any suspects. If you’re at the office with me, they’ll have less suspicions regarding you. The hours should not be too long, but you may have to give up on the posters for a while. It may be prudent to do so._

_I tried knocking on your door several times this week and even broke in on one occasion—please don’t be angry—but you were not there. I hope that you are well._

_Yours,_

_美山 カイ_

“Miyama Kai,” Sehun whispered. From what he could remember from Chinese lessons during elementary school and with Luhan, the characters 美山 that comprised Kai’s surname meant beautiful mountain. He brought the letter close. He could only smell ink, which was probably from the pen Kai used. Sehun pouted. He closed his eyes and allowed memories to deluge his mind. He could almost smell the food stalls at the Chuseok fair, evening air, and burned rice and kimchi.

Sehun’s nose stung and he quickly folded up the paper, setting it on his nightstand before blowing out the candle. He fell back on to his bed and ruffled his hair, thinking of how he was going to explain this to Baekhyun. If Kai was going to be in the city hall when the meeting happened, there was no way he was going to plant those bombs. How was he going to explain this to Baekhyun?

He thought of the mission they were planning—pure suicide, really—and almost growled with stress. If they didn’t get shot, the Japanese were surely going to arrest civilians and shoot them instead. And even if they did die, civilians would probably still be rounded up for an execution regardless. Sehun flipped over and pressed his face into the pillows and clenched his fists.

He felt heat pooling in his groin and gasped as he felt himself hardening. Sehun lay still, unsure of what to do. His father and Luhan had told him about these things and _of course_ he’d touched himself before but this… felt different. He tried to will his erection away and was about to turn around when his movements shoved his member against the hard mattress. He gasped as brightness exploded in his vision. Sehun slowly reached a hand into his undergarments and stroked himself. Kai’s face swam across his vision. He jerked in his hand.

Groaning, Sehun made love to his pillows before climaxing with a strangled moan. He felt hot and sticky and relieved. Stumbling to the bathroom on unsteady legs, he cleaned himself with a washcloth before making his way back to bed.

 _Just physical attraction,_ he instructed himself severely before falling into a peaceful slumber.

 

~

Here’s some info on the war in China that Sehun and Baekhyun talk about. It will be incredibly general as I attempt to squash down my knowledge of Chinese history into a few paragraphs. Forgive me.

So basically for like four-ish thousand years, China used to be ruled by an emperor. Here’s a pretty nice [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xJis9TSw1rE) that teaches you all the dynasties LOL and here’s a [list](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dynasties_in_Chinese_history). The ruling family of the last imperial dynasty, the Qing, was overthrown in a revolution in 1911 called the Xinhai Revolution. And then politically, economically, and socially, things were a bit chaotic after that but in the 1920s, two distinct groups emerged, the Guomindang (GMD) also known as the Kuomintang (KMT) and the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) also known as the Communist Party of China (CPC).

Things were pretty shaky between them but they managed a truce in 1923, called the First United Front, to take down the warlords in China. Then they started fighting in 1927 and this was the first phase of the Chinese Civil War (the second phase started after the end of World War II in 1945 and ended in 1949). The Japanese then invaded Manchuria in 1931 and the war between the GMD and the CCP was halted again to focus on fighting the Japanese together and they created the Second United Front, which lasted from December 1936 to 1945.

The Battle of South Guangxi that Sehun read about lasted from November 1939 to November 1940 and was a victory for the Chinese but they sustained terrible losses and damages.

The Hundred Regiments Offensive, which took place from August to early December 1940, was a sort of similar story but it was a major success and was the greatest victory the CCP won during the war. The Hundred Regiments Offensive was commanded by Peng Dehuai. He later became a marshal and China’s defense minister and was one of the generals who signed the armistice ending the Korean War. Search him up, he’s actually a legend but his story is so sad.

The Reorganized National Government of China was created in March 1940 and was dissolved in 1945 with the end of the war. It was headed by Wang Jingwei, a former GMD official who’s now labelled as a traitor by both China and Taiwan.

The fighting between the Imperial Japanese Army and the Second United Front is known as the Second Sino-Japanese War, and lasted from 1937 to 1945 (Sino means Chinese). In December 1941, after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, the Second Sino-Japanese War merged with World War II.

So, _Second_ Sino-Japanese War? What about the first one, you ask?

The First Sino-Japanese War was fought between Qing dynasty China and Japan and lasted for less than a year, from 1894 to 1895. It was fought for influence over Joseon dynasty Korea. Japan had just undergone the Meiji Restoration and won the war quite easily, inflicting pretty bad damages to the Chinese. And the result of this war was that the sphere of influence in Asia, for the first time, went to Japan instead of China. This was felt fairly prominently in Korea.

And this is where Empress Myeongseong comes in. Her husband was Emperor Gojong of the Joseon dynasty, and she gave birth to Sunjong (this is the guy that Sehun’s father worked for in the story). She was informally known as Queen Min and advocated for less Japanese influence in Korea and was very active on the political arena, even though many officials scorned her and considered her meddlesome. She educated herself and was very keen on modernizing Korea. She was assassinated in 1895 and her death sparked outrage.

The Imjin War took place from 1592 to 1598 and is comprised of two Japanese invasions, one in 1592 and another in 1597. It was launched by Toyotomi Hideyoshi, who wanted to conquer the Korean Peninsula and eventually China.

After the first invasion in 1592, the Japanese very quickly occupied a lot of land. A lot of the fighting was then done by righteous army groups, which were groups of civilians that took up arms. These righteous armies and guerilla fighters, combined with troops from Ming dynasty China managed to push most of the Japanese out of Korea but a lot of territory was still occupied and a military stalemate took place. The second invasion in 1597 wasn’t too different from the first and it was only after the death of Toyotomi Hideyoshi that the Japanese retreated entirely.

Geumjeongsan is a mountain in Busan. The Wikipedia page detailing the Imjin War has a painting of Japanese soldiers climbing up a mountain in Busan and I imagine Sehun’s poster to look somewhat like that but maybe more nationalistic and less detailed; he is a sculptor after all.

I’ve mentioned the term kisaeng before but forgot to define it. They were basically women who were enslaved as entertainers and courtesans in Korea. They were often employed at courts and were trained very well in the arts, poetry, music, and dance. An oiran is essentially a prostitute but differs in that they were entertainers as well. Many became well-known celebrities. They originate from Japan. Their style of dress and their art often set trends so many cultural aspects of oiran customs are still preserved. They’re often mixed up with geishas due to the similarity in their dress.

The surname I gave Kai, Miyama (美山), is a real Japanese surname. I honestly think that Japanese surnames are so beautiful. I don’t speak Japanese, but I know what the Chinese characters mean and they all depict such wonderful aspects of nature.

The カイ is Kai’s given name, so it’s Kai. That sentence sounded really stupid, sorry. It’s phonetic. I just took the Korean way of writing Kai (카이) and translated it into Japanese. Kai is a fairly popular given name, and it means different things depending on the culture. In Chinese, 凯 means victory. In Japanese (when it’s not written as カイ), it can mean ocean (海) or recovery (貝).

Also, _just_ physical attraction? Sureeeeeee. I guess we’ll see. ;)

So sorry for this long spiel. Thanks for reading! <3

 


	10. Wanderer

Sehun jolted awake at the sound of Baekhyun’s knocking. He rose blearily and slowly made his way to the door and greeted the two lovebirds.

“Morning!” Chanyeol called.

“Sehun,” Baekhyun said. “You should get ready.”

“Uh, can I talk to you, Baek?”

Reluctantly, Baekhyun followed Sehun into the apartment. “Is something wrong?” Baekhyun asked, studying him intently.

Sehun crossed his arms and looked around his place for suitable hiding places in case Baekhyun flipped. “I can’t come over today.”

“What’s the matter?”

Sehun took a deep breath. “I will have to make some trips to the city hall.”

“Are you in trouble?” Baekhyun looked anxious.

“No. I would like to say that I had no choice in this matter and—”

Baekhyun cut him off with a raised hand. “No… this might be a blessing in disguise,” he murmured to himself.

Sehun was both startled and relieved by the lack of a negative reaction. “What do you mean?”

“Why do you need go to there? And for how long?”

“Some of the officers want me to sculpt for them. I think I’ll be there for the whole day and they’ll most likely want me to work until the sculpture is complete. Kai—”

“Kai?” Baekhyun bellowed. “I thought I told you to stop seeing him!”

“What? He didn’t visit! It was in the letter he gave me yesterday.”

“Oh yeah. Right. Sorry.” Baekhyun deflated slightly and winced.

“If you want, I can head over to your place at night to plan for the mission,” Sehun said gently.

“Ah, yes,” Baekhyun remembered, perking up slightly. “Speaking of the mission. Remember how you said we’ll need to find someone to plant the bombs in the building?”

“Mmm.”

“Well, I’m assuming it takes a long time to finish a sculpture. Long enough that, by the time the day of our mission comes along, you’ll probably still be there sculpting…” Baekhyun put his hand on his chin thoughtfully.

“I-I don’t follow, hyung.”

“The city hall is where all the high-ranking officers, prominent government officials, and high-profile builbae work.”

Sehun nodded.

“The meeting we plan to… crash is going to be held there. Do you know what this means? We have all our eggs in one basket,” Baekhyun said, smirking. “If you promise to plant the bombs for us the day of our mission, I won’t get mad at you.”

“H-huh?”

“You’re the only who can access the building. If you behave, they’ll probably let you run freely around in there. I don’t know if I’ll be allowed. I don’t know if I can get in even on father’s reputation because I think a lot of the Japs are aware of the way I feel towards them. Father called me several days ago and raged at me, trying to tell me to keep my mouth shut. Ha. He and I have strained ties right now because of that. And the last thing I want to do is to go ask him for help.” His mouth twisted.

Sehun patted Baekhyun’s shoulder. Baekhyun shook him off.

“I’m not upset or anything,” Baekhyun said, turning away. “You’re the only one who can get in. You can either do this or help Kyungsoo gun down the people who survive the explosions.” Baekhyun’s face softened as he added, “Please, Sehun. This will be for the good of your countrymen. The meeting is before Seollal. Won’t this be the most brilliant way to kick off a new year of our lives under captivity?”

Sehun gulped. “I’ll see what my arrangements are to be. If I am able to, I’ll lay down the bombs.”

Baekhyun nodded curtly.

“Wait. Your father.”

The smaller male raised a brow.

“Won’t he be at this meeting?”

“He has a business meeting in Tokyo around that time. Why coddle up to the Japs here when you can more coddling with them in their native land?”

“Okay… so what

His wistful look disappeared as he said, “I guess I can start some posters. I can take over for you. They won’t look as nice as yours—what am I saying, they’ll be actual crap, but it’s the thought that counts right?”

“I think it would be prudent to take a break from the posters, at least for a while.”

“What, why? They’re so nice! And effective. Hate the taste of fame or something?” Baekhyun teased, flashing Sehun a smile.

Sehun rolled his eyes. “You might run into soldiers even if the patrol schedule says that an area isn’t being patrolled. They’re sending people to specifically hunt down whoever’s putting up posters. It’s too much of a risk.”

“How do you know this?”

Sehun paused, unsure of whether or not he should tell Baekhyun about Kai’s offer. He decided not to; something told him that Baekhyun wouldn’t believe him anyway. “I hear gossip on the street and stuff. You know. Have you ever been to the market?”

Baekhyun inclined his head. “Okay.”

“You should go, Chanyeol will probably want to talk with you for a bit longer.”

Baekhyun pouted. “This means I can’t see Chanyeol in the mornings anymore. The things I sacrifice for the Resistance.” He gave a dramatic sigh as he started making his way to the door. “Maybe I’ll stop by at that restaurant he works at. Or get him to take me to a hotel.” Baekhyun shot Sehun a lewd smile and winked before dashing out the door, laughing at Sehun’s crimson face.

~

Not long after Baekhyun left, another series of knocks was heard. Sehun made sure that the few sheets of blank poster paper he had left were stashed away before making his way to the door. He smiled at Kai who had on his uniform underneath a olive wool coat. There were two soldiers standing behind the lieutenant.

“Sehun,” Kai greeted.

“Kai,” Sehun squeaked before he bowed somberly.

Kai’s smile dimmed slightly at the bow. “May we come in?”

Sehun nodded and quickly stepped out of the way. He led Kai and the two soldiers into the studio. Kai walked up to the statue of Apollo and gave orders. They saluted Kai and waddled to the statue. Kai took Sehun aside as the two soldiers began wrapping the sculpture in cloth and tying ropes around it. Sehun looked at what they were doing and had the distinct notion that his beautiful creation was being imprisoned.

“Sehun, how are you?” Kai asked breathlessly.

Sehun’s eyes flicked up to the young officer’s face, the soft arch of his smile, and his kind, sparkling eyes and forgot to breathe. He cleared his throat. “I’m well.”

Kai hummed.

“How are you?”

Kai frowned, thinking about his answer. “I’m… well. Pretty busy month.”

“I’m not busy enough. I haven’t sculpted anything,” Sehun sighed. “I mean, I tried,” he said, leading Kai to Persephone and Hades. “But there’s such something,” Sehun paused to grab his hair in frustration, “missing.”

Kai studied it. “I thought it was finished.”

“I know but I still feel like it’s lacking something. I just don’t know what.”

“You’ll get it eventually,” Kai smiled.

“Hopefully.” The two soldiers had by now made their way out of the studio, although they made it clear that they hadn’t yet exited the apartment with a cacophony of grunts.

“Maybe I should give them a hand,” Kai remarked. He saw the look on Sehun’s face and laughed.

“You can’t just ditch me for two months and then leave me again!” Sehun pouted.

“Alright, alright,” chuckled Kai. “I was kidding about that, you know.” He took off his gloves. “These hands were not made for heavy lifting.”

“Oh? What were they made for?”

“Flipping through books, running through your hair,” Kai murmured.

Heat exploded on Sehun’s face and he shoved Kai away. “You shameless flirt.”

“I can’t help myself,” the elder confessed, sticking his hands in his pockets. He wandered over to the large blocks of marble Sehun kept for future projects. “Maybe if you change things up a bit, you’ll have some inspiration. You like Roman stuff?”

Sehun shrugged. “Of course.”

“I was looking at Virgil’s _Aeneid_ the other day…”

“You pretentious, shameless flirt.”

“Fine, if you don’t want to listen, I won’t talk.”

Sehun looked at Kai incredulously. He was pouting. Sehun couldn’t resist. He pinched Kai’s cheeks and cooed. Kai sprang away, feigning affrontation.

“I’m all ears.”

“Perhaps you could draw inspiration from the _Aeneid?_ It tells the story of Aeneas’ escape from Troy and his journey to Italy.”

“Where he’s destined to found Rome,” Sehun continued with a smile. He furrowed his brow. “Hmm. I suppose I could try my hand at Aeneas.”

“That’s not a bad idea. He’s very handsome,” Kai added, “even more so than me. Shocker, I know. He’ll be such a joy to sculpt. Son of Venus and all that.”

Sehun grinned. The clacking of boots caught his attention.

“I’m afraid it’s time for us to go,” Kai said.

The smile slipped off Sehun’s face.

Kai grabbed his hand and squeezed it comfortingly. “You’ll be okay,” he said softly, looking deep into the young sculptor’s eyes. “You can do this, I know you can. You’re so brave, Sehun.”

Brave? Him? _I’m not,_ he wanted to say. _I wish I was._ Instead he squeezed back and tried to swallow past the lump clogging his throat. He couldn’t and his eyes watered. “Okay,” he whispered finally. “Please stay with me.”

“Of course,” Kai promised quietly. The rich baritone of his voice sent shivers down his spine. Kai went to grab a coat for him.

Sehun’s trepidation was mitigated, but only somewhat. He still held on to Kai’s hand as the two exited his abode.

Sehun took a moment to wonder about the lub-dub that was his heartbeat. It was pounding frighteningly quickly in his chest. His cheeks ached a bit and he realized that he had a stupid grin plastered on his face, even while he was on his way to the enemy’s lair. Scarlet swatches of heat bloomed on his face when Kai held the door of the automobile open for him and climbed in after to settle beside the trembling sculptor. Sehun hastily turned around to stare out the window as Kai ordered the soldier in their car to start driving, the two other soldiers and Apollo in a car behind them.

Sehun bit his lip. He missed this. Kai’s presence. He thought of what he had done the night before and pressed his cheek to the cold glass of the window to cool himself down. It must be a physical attraction, as he had decided. But there was something else. This feeling that he couldn’t quite discern or describe, this feeling that acted as kindling to the raging flames of desire that threatened to consume him from within. This feeling… what was it? Was it simply a corporeal yearning? Or was it more?

Sehun bit his lip as they drove along the mostly deserted streets, passing armed sentries and patrols as they went.

No, it couldn’t be more.

He gulped.

It better not be more.

~

Stiff soldiers saluted the car it made its way past the guarded entryway and up the paved bricks towards the entrance of the city hall. Sehun took everything in while attempting to reign in the tremors that were threatening to rack his body. Perhaps it was due to fear, perhaps it was because of the cold. The edifice was imposing but the three flags that fluttered proudly in the winter wind—the flag of Japan, the Imperial Japanese Army, and the Imperial Japanese Navy—were even more daunting.

It was snowing. The sky was pale and the ground was beginning to turn white as well. The colouring of the day made the red of the rising sun on each flag stand out even more. Kai marched to the flagpoles and snapped into a smart salute while Sehun stood by the car, hands clenched into fists and shoved into his pockets to keep them from shaking too hard.

Sehun smiled stiffy as Kai walked back to him. With a graceful incline of his head, Kai gestured for Sehun to follow him into the building. Sehun hurriedly paced himself so that he was as close to the lieutenant as possible. After a moment’s hesitation, Kai’s hand reached out for Sehun’s. Sehun tentatively allowed his hand to be enveloped by Kai’s larger one and silently marvelled at how well their two grips molded and fit around each other.

Guards pulled the heavy doors open for them and saluted as they set foot into the city hall. The entrance hall was stately and grandiose. The marble floor gleamed. Massive chandeliers hung overhead and a large information desk sat several secretaries who were busy answering phone calls and scribbling. The same three flags that flew outside were placed in here as well, albeit on shorter flagpoles, along with the flags of Germany and Italy. Sehun remembered the reports he had read of the war in Europe, how the Nazis were tearing their way across the continent, how Mussolini’s troops were waging war in Africa and the Balkans.

High-ranking military commanders in uniform strode about, their medals and decorations catching the light. They reflected painfully into Sehun’s eyes. Some walked with Japanese government officials who were dressed in Western suits. Sehun spotted Korean bureaucrats and businessmen amid the throng and restrained himself from grimacing. Builbae. They were all talking and laughing with each other.

Sehun caught sight of a cluster of girls in kimonos who were making their way across the atrium, carrying trays of tea. He wondered if they were the oiran Baekhyun mentioned and felt ill.

Sehun remained docile as he followed Kai through the assembly of the military and political elite. Several builbae bowed to Kai and some Japanese officers saluted him, also sending the lieutenant a smirk accompanied by an appraising glance at Sehun that made his skin crawl. Kai’s face remained impassive as he made his out of the entrance hall and into a maze of wide corridors. Sehun kept his head down as they passed more officers and some foot soldiers. Eventually, they reached what Sehun presumed was Kai’s office.

It was a spacious room with plush dark green carpeting. A chandelier hung on the ceiling. The curtains were drawn open, letting the winter day flood the office with cool light. Copies of well-known paintings adorned the walls. Sehun spied Botticelli’s _Primavera_ and _The Birth of Venus._ A copy of Caravaggio’s _Bacchus_ hung next to a framed copy of Hokusai’s _The Great Wave._ There were other works that Sehun didn’t recognize. Sehun saw a framed photo of Kai posed beside Michelangelo’s _David_ and smiled because Kai looked so happy and carefree.

Kai released his hand with a sigh and made his way to the grand desk that was situated by the window. He turned on the desk lamp, illuminating the room in a much warmer glow, sat down in the large leather chair, and covered his face with his hands. Sehun watched Kai become embroiled in an unforeseen moment of stress before turning his attention back to the art on the wall. After a moment, Kai seemed to notice Sehun looking at the paintings and got up.

“These are nice,” Sehun mentioned. He walked over to the unfamiliar works. “What are these?”

“This is a reprint of a painting called _Strolling About in Spring_ by Zhan Ziqian,” Kai said, gesturing at a complicated series of brushstrokes that made up a tasteful arrangement of mountains on yellowed paper.

“A Chinese painter,” Sehun stated, surprised.

Kai nodded. “I quite like landscape paintings. Especially ones that feature mountains. The work dates back to the sixth century, and is the first example of landscape painting. The Chinese called it shan shui.”

“Mountain-water,” he translated aloud.

“You speak Chinese?” Kai asked.

“Um,” Sehun began. “A little.” For some reason Kai did not look too surprised, as if he already knew the answer to his own question. Sehun looked back to the wall. “And this one?”

“This is by a Japanese artist named Sesshu Toyo. It’s called _Views of Ama-no-Hashidate._ ”

Sehun scrutinized the landscape. While his mind told him to loathe the Japanese and anything they created, the artist in him was captivated.

“He was well into his eighties by the time he painted this. He had to climb a tall mountain to capture the view.”

“Well, it is a nice view,” Sehun admitted, looking at the ink and wash painting depicting a bird’s eye view of a village, forests, little fishing boats floating on a lake, and mountains in the distance.

“Japan has always had a reverence for nature. The Shinto religion believes in kami, deities and spirits that reside in nature—in mountains, rivers, forests, rocks. They are interconnected to the energy of the universe and to be inspired and awed by aspects of nature is to be in harmony with kami, something that humanity should strive towards.” Kai gestured to _The Great Wave._ “The main theme in Hokusai’s print is the formidable power of nature. Nature isn’t secular. It’s sacred. A painting of nature for the Japanese is, thus, not just a way to capture the landscape but also a way to portray the beauty of nature and the kami who flourish in it.”

Sehun thought of the lush forests and countryside surrounding Busan and how the Japanese had torn down the land to build factories but decided not to say anything.

Kai looked at him and seemed to read his mind. He looked sad as he said, “I’m sorry it had to be like that. Not all… not all of us agree with that, not all of us are like—”

“I know,” Sehun interrupted. “I know, I’m sorry, I know you’re not like that. It’s just…” Sehun’s voice died out as a watercolour caught his attention.

“Sehun?”

Sehun didn’t answer, too busy being enchanted by the delicate watercolour. He saw mountains in the distance, early morning mist just beginning to settle against the clouds, and trees that poked out of a collective of thatched homes. A red sun was rising, scattering a warm orange hue that blended into the light, innocent blue of the morning sky. There was a large lake and there were people in the water, some on fishing boats and some wading in the shallows. Sehun could almost hear the splashing of the gentle waves against their calves. It was breathtaking.

“What’s this one, then?”

“Ah,” Kai said. “That was painted by my mother. Her family moved to Japan when she was very young. She grew up in the countryside as I did. My father too. I was born in the countryside of Nagano Prefecture. It’s the most beautiful place, Sehun. Mountains, rivers, lakes. We had the most spectacular cherry blossoms. This… this is a painting of my home.”

Given that information, Sehun studied it further. The work made him feel at peace and he remembered Kai singing to him. He looked at the lieutenant. Kai was staring at the painting. His eyes had turned slightly watery and the skin around them had turned red. He quickly looked away.

Feeling like he was imposing, Sehun pointed at another work. This one was printed on canvas. “What about this one?”

Grabbing the lifeline gratefully, Kai said, “This one is called _Wanderer above The Sea of Fog_ by Caspar David Friedrich.”

“I’ve never heard of him,” Sehun remarked.

Kai shrugged. “He was very popular in his day, but he fell from favour. Died in obscurity.” Kai sighed. “He was a Romantic painter, and laid down the foundations of early Romanticism. He’s renowned for his landscape paintings. I was told that he sought to capture a moment of sublimity, a greatness beyond calculation or imitation. The man standing on the rocks, see how his back is to you? That was done on purpose. He is called the Rückenfigur. By doing that, Friedrich encourages the viewer to place himself in the shoes of the man and to experience the depicted view. Friedrich makes the viewing of nature an almost spiritual experience.”

Sehun hummed. “It’s nice, the haze of sea fog and the crashing waves and the pose the man is in, but it just looks a bit… I don’t know. I feel small for some reason.”

Kai nodded. “Look at how the fog covers practically everything. It stretches out and becomes indistinguishable from the sky. You can see the tops of trees on cliffs far away. It creates a sense of unimportance for the Rückenfigur. It’s a bit funny isn’t it? He’s at the center of the work but amid the mastery of nature, he’s practically insignificant. It’s fantastic.”

“I suppose? But why would anyone want to feel insignificant? Don’t you want to triumph?”

“It’s a submission to nature,” Kai explained. “I find that thought quite reassuring.”

“Submission to nature?”

“No, the insignificance bit. It’s just,” Kai began tentatively, as if unsure whether or not he should go on. “I don’t know. I’ve done some… pretty terrible things. And looking at stuff like this painting and feeling, _being_ insignificant… it makes me submit to the notion that nothing we do mattered, matters, or will matter. It’s like… redemption. It’s soothing.”

“Why do you want to feel like nothing matters?” Sehun stared at him. He didn’t quite understand. He gestured to the painting made by Kai’s mother. “But what about this one? Does this one make you feel like nothing matters?”

Kai looked at him.

“When I see something beautiful and awe-inspiring as what your mother painted or what Friedrich portrayed I feel like… like my life is given new meaning,” Sehun said. “Think of it as rebirth. All of a sudden, everything matters even more than it did before. I _am_ ready to submit to nature but at the same time, I feel wholly significant because I’m able to experience the beauty of it.”

Kai was silent and unreadable as he pondered Sehun’s words. Finally he cracked a smile. “Spoken like the artist that you are.”

“No, really, I mean it.”

Kai shrugged. “I see your point, but, what can I say. I’ve done terrible things. And if I’m reduced to something insignificant, I… I feel that there’s less blame shifted on me for what I’ve done. That the stuff I didn’t do but should’ve done and the stuff that I did do—that they were out of my sphere of control. And if nothing matters, then, the stuff I did can’t have been as horrible as I think and know it was.” Kai looked down. “Even if I have to contend with a meaningless existence, at least with that, I’m not… an entirely bad person.”

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Kai,” Sehun said quietly.

Kai chuckled cynically. Sehun looked down. He still had doubts about Kai and he was upset that the officer seemed to sense this.

“I know what you mean,” Sehun started quietly. “Thinking that life is pointless and meaningless.” After he came back to Busan with Luhan, they’d stayed in a run-down hostel as Sehun’s old house was in no condition to be lived in. Luhan had worked multiple jobs to support them. Sehun had been traumatized for a year. There was not a night when he didn’t wake up screaming and sobbing. He wanted to die. He had lost everything. Luhan wouldn’t let him however, and Sehun chose to just hide himself in the room they rented, an empty shell of himself. He would shake so hard that his teeth would chatter whenever footsteps passed the door. He recoiled, then lashed back violently whenever Luhan touched him and his ge had to physically restrain him in order to treat his injuries.

Then Luhan had brought back the book and Sehun felt like he had a purpose in the world. To make art, to forget his hideousness by making something beautiful. The days after that were not so dark by contrast. And after he and Luhan created their little Resistance, Sehun felt like his life was back on track.

Then Kai entered his life and Baekhyun, Junmyeon, Kyungsoo, and Jongdae came along and he wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do now.

Kai was still looking at him.

“I think that even though there are many things out of your control or influence, that doesn’t mean that what you do matters,” Sehun said.

“But if nothing matters… then my actions don’t matter.”

“Of course your actions matter,” Sehun stated flatly. “You could’ve reported me the night you found my drawing. But you didn’t. So you saved me.”

“Saved you?” Kai whispered. “No, you saved yourself.”

“Art saved me,” Sehun said finally. “Art gave my life new meaning.” He opened his mouth to talk about Luhan but held himself. Then he decided that he couldn’t possibly leave out his ge who had done so much for him. “And… a very close friend.”

“Friend?” Kai inquired.

“Basically family,” Sehun murmured. He wasn’t sure if Kai heard but he seemed satisfied.

Loud knocks sounded on the door. Two soldiers came in lugging Apollo on a wheelbarrow. Kai went away with a gentle pat on Sehun’s back and spoke with the two. Sehun reached into his head, recalling his Japanese lessons during elementary school and determined that Kai was telling them to place the statue by the window, near his desk. The soldiers responded too quickly for Sehun’s abilities and then proceeded to lug the statue to the window.

Kai made his way back to Sehun with a terse smile. “The lieutenant general would like to see you now. He and some others want to discuss the commission.”

“O-others?”

Kai nodded. “You will be fine, I assure you.”

“I thought you were a lieutenant?”

“I’m a lieutenant colonel,” Kai explained. “He’s a rikugun chujo. Three ranks above me. You can address him as chujo. The other three are rikugun taisa and you may call them taisa.”

They continued in silence until they reached a set of double doors guarded by two soldiers. Kai squeezed his hand. Sehun shot him a quick smile and took a deep breath as the soldiers opened the doors and he followed Kai into the room.

 

~

Seollal is Korean New Year, and falls on the first day of the Korean lunar calendar. It falls on the same day as Chinese New Year and other Lunar New Years celebrated in Asia (although there are exceptions where it’s either a day earlier or a day later but those are rare). Seollal and maybe Chinese New Year will be featured in the next few chapters and I’ll put in more info about the cultural traditions in the notes for later chapters.

The _Aeneid_ is a Latin epic, named for its main character, the Trojan hero Aeneas. It was written by Virgil between 29 and 19 BC and is considered one of the finest works of Latin literature. Aeneas’ story varies depending on whose account you look at, but he was basically the son of Aphrodite/Venus and Anchises, a member of the royal family of Troy. Aeneas played a small role in the Trojan War. After the Trojan War, he set sail for Italy, where he was destined to found Rome and become ancestor to the Roman people. On his way to Italy, he stopped in Carthage for about a year and fell in love with Queen Dido.

More on Aeneas and Dido soon.

[Here](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flag_of_Japan#Military_flags) is the Wikipedia page for the flags of Japan. The three flags that Sehun sees were the flag of Japan, which features a red sun centered on a white backdrop, the flag of the Imperial Japanese Army (IJA), which is the same as the Japanese flag but it features sixteen red rays extending from the sun, and the flag of the Imperial Japanese Navy, which looks like the flag of the IJA, but is shifted off-center. The IJA flag is known as the Flag of the Rising Sun.

Zhan Ziqian (展子虔) is a Chinese painter of the Sui dynasty, which lasted from 581 to 618. Only one of his works survived, _Strolling About in Spring,_ but descriptions of his other works remain. Shan shui (shān shuǐ, 山水) painting is a style of traditional Chinese painting with a brush and ink. They often depict landscapes or natural scenery and mountains, rivers, waterfalls, clouds, and whatnot feature prominently.

Sesshu Toyo (雪舟 等楊) is a famous Japanese painter, who is regarded as the master of ink and wash painting. He was born in 1420 into a samurai family. The work that Kai has a copy of, _Views of Ama-no-Hashidate,_ was painted in the early 1500s. It depicts Ama-no-Hashidate, which is a long sandbar that connects the mountains and forests on either side of Miyazu Bay, and is one of Japan’s most scenic views.

Nagano Prefecture is where the lyricist of Furusato hails from. The lyrics apparently don’t point to a particular place, but it was too difficult to choose one place in Japan, since they’re all so beautiful so I decided to go with his hometown. Nagano is well known in Japan for its mountains and lakes and scenery. A prefecture is the first level of administrative division. It’s similar to a province or a state.

Caspar David Friedrich is a German Romantic artist. He managed to portray landscape in an entirely new manner and aimed to capture the sublime in his works. Search him up, he’s actually such a legend. He did like employing, as Kai says, the Rückenfigur. He liked to portray coasts, mountains, cliffs, and forests. He’s very well known for his paintings of the chalk cliffs in northern Germany. He also liked to employ religious mysticism and incorporate German folklore into his works. What I really like about him is that a lot of his works are really personal.

 _Wanderer above The Sea of Fog_ is probably one of the most iconic works of Romantic art. The Rückenfigur is standing on rocks and is looking out into thick fog. It apparently represents an unknown future. Looking at it, you do feel quite small and insignificant and I think it’s brilliant that Friedrich managed to capture that in his painting. William Gaddis, an American novelist had a nice description for it, saying that the outlook “is contradictory, suggesting at once mastery over a landscape and the insignificance of the individual within it.”

I don’t know if people often tie in absurdist views and a meaningless life with _Wanderer above The Sea of Fog._ They probably don’t but I needed my subpar analysis for the plot. I don’t know how much sense it makes, LOL, but please bear with me.

I lowkey had an existential crisis writing that bit but school’s almost starting so I’m just warming up, really.

Thanks for reading!!! <3

 


	11. Kimono

They were in what looked to be a tea room. Kai saluted the four men present, who were sitting on bamboo mats before a low table. On it sat a pot of tea, hemmed in by an assortment of snacks in little porcelain bowls. Paintings of fair-skinned women in flowy, ornate clothing hugged the walls. Silk panels were scattered about the room. 

Sehun bowed deeply and then stood very still with his hands at his sides, staring straight ahead, not sure where to look. 

The doors were snapped shut behind him and he jumped. He was trapped in a room with monsters. Kai took several steps into the room. No, not Kai. Kai wasn’t a monster. At least Sehun hoped so. Kai wore the same uniform as the four men. Standing there, paralyzed with fear, his vision began to swim. He squinted his eyes as he began to have trouble distinguishing Kai from the other officers. 

Sehun shook himself. Kai had said that he would protect him. He had promised. 

There was nothing to worry about.

“Hello,” a gravelly voice said in Japanese. 

Sehun turned to look at a middle aged man. He had been at the Chuseok fair with Kai.

“Chujo, taisa,” Kai greeted. He introduced Sehun. 

“Chusa.” The lieutenant general nodded from his place at the head of the table and he gestured for the two to sit. Kai sat and Sehun hastily did the same. Kai poured Sehun some tea as the three other officers, colonels, taisa, who were sitting opposite them, stared at him.

They looked scary. 

Sehun swallowed nervously. He quickly swept his glance across the three taisa and their uniforms laden with honours. They had more than Kai. Even in the tea room they had their guns with them, in leather pouches on their sides. Sehun spotted three sheathed swords that had been taken off of their belts. The Japanese were good with swords. They were good with knives too. Phantom fibers of pain bled across his chest. 

They were evil. 

Sehun averted his eyes in resentment before deciding to study them further. They were also middle aged, but a bit younger than the chujo. One sported a rather garish moustache, the ends of which he wound tightly around his fingers now and then. Another was quite thin and had massive craters on his skin. Behind the gold-framed glasses he wore, his eyes roamed up and down Sehun’s body brazenly. The last one had greying hair on his temples. All three and the chujo looked tired, but they still radiated an excited energy that frightened and angered Sehun.

Kai seemed to notice his ire and pushed over the cup of tea he had poured. He gulped down the scalding beverage before turning his attention to the table surface. The wood was shiny.

“Do you know why you are here today?” the chujo asked in Japanese.

Sehun hesitated. 

“Chujo,” Kai spoke. “May we carry out this conversation in Korean?” 

The man at the head of the table looked offended and furious. Sehun’s body tensed, bracing himself.

The other officers whispered among themselves and tossed disappointed glances in his direction as if displeased with his poor grasp of their language and as if he should have studied harder in school. Kai looked at Sehun reassuringly. 

The taisa with the greying hair cleared his throat before addressing the sculptor in accented Korean. “Oh Sehun-ssi. I am called Kitayama. I will speak on behalf of my colleagues, because I speak your language better than they do.” He chuckled. “We have heard many great things about your statues.” 

_ They don’t even speak Korean, _ Sehun thought bitterly.  _ And yet they rule over the entire nation. _ He bit hard on his tongue to refrain from shouting the words of derision that he oh so longed to do. He swallowed a laugh.  _ It’s not like the others would understand me if I tried. _ He narrowed his eyes at Kitayama, the foil in his plan.

His earlier anxiety uncoiled and began morphing itself into vehement loathing. 

“Kitsune,” the taisa with the glasses said. 

Sehun presumed he meant the kitsune statues he would make for Shinto shrines and nodded timidly.

The taisa with the glasses nodded, smiling, although this time his eyes did not stray down from Sehun’s face.

“You sculpt Western statues as well,” Kitayama continued. “We have called you here today to submit a request for a commission, if you are willing to take it.”

What were they playing at? Kai and his letter told Sehun that his superiors were pretty fixed on the idea that Sehun was going to sculpt them something. He wondered what would happen if he refused the request. Recalling Baekhyun’s suggestion that he behave, whatever that was supposed to mean, Sehun nodded demurely. “Of course I am,” he murmured. 

Kitayama and the others looked satisfied. The taisa with the glasses and the one with the moustache narrowed their eyes at Sehun and sent him simpering half-smiles that sent chills down his spine. 

“How wonderful. Chujo has quite a passion for the arts. We would like you make a sculpture of Ares.”

The god of war. Of course.

The chujo made a noise of protest. Kitayama quickly looked to him. Sehun missed their conversation, turning his head to the sound of the doors opening. A girl with a dainty, painted face took tiny, mincing steps into the room, wobbling slightly on the high geta sandals she wore. Pale toes peeked out from underneath the hem of her elaborate kimono. Light pink embroidered plum blossoms woven on a backdrop of dark purple silk wrapped around her slim body. She was very pretty. As Sehun studied her features, he decided that there was something strangely familiar about her. The oiran set an assortment of cookies and mochi on the table. 

The two taisa turned their heads away from Sehun and now directed their lecherous ogles towards the girl. Even Kitayama paused in his discussion with the chujo to look at the girl. The chujo turned his eyes to the treats. Kitayama sent the oiran a dazzling smile which she returned, curving up her cherry lips coyly. She bowed, folded her hands above her burgundy obi and backed away from the table with her head down. She clacked out of the room and Sehun saw her exchange a stealthy look with Kai. She looked worried. Kai shot her a soothing glance.

Something tightened in Sehun’s throat. He turned to look at Kai. 

“Oh Sehun-ssi,” Kitayama said suddenly, drawing his attention. “My apologies. We would like you to sculpt  _ Mars. _ ” 

Sehun nodded hesitantly. “I… accept.” 

It made sense that he would be tasked with sculpting Mars as opposed to Ares, given that Japan’s military alliance was with Italy, not Greece. But Sehun couldn’t help wondering if there was another reason. Mars was glorified in Latin literature and enjoyed a revered and prominent place in society that his Greek counterpart never did. His textbooks stated that Mars, the Roman god of war and guardian of agriculture, was viewed as a force that energized wars for the purpose of delivering a lasting peace. 

Sehun felt that Ares would have been more appropriate given his experience with the Japanese and given his knowledge of all they had done and what they were still doing in his homeland, in China, in Indochina. Ares was treated with contempt, and embodied the destructive, barbaric, and untamed facets of war. He was viewed as violent and hateful, a deity that thrived in chaos. He sponsored the people of Troy who lost the war Trojan War, putting his capabilities in question. Sehun hoped that the Japanese would be just as incompetent in their battles, but given the current state of the world, it seemed that this was simply not meant to be.

~

Kai convinced the others to let Sehun work in his office as opposed to the tea room or another suite in the city hall. They discussed Sehun’s arrangements loudly with each other in rapid, lively Japanese that was unintelligible to him. Kai had looked uncomfortable. 

Kai told Sehun on their way back to the elder’s office that the officers eventually relented because they were glad that he would have some supervision, but the looks they threw at Sehun and the smirks they shared with each other betrayed the true nature of the conversation. 

Sehun didn’t think Kai said anything that gave them the implications they evidently drew, but he still shrank away from Kai’s touch when the elder attempted to grasp his hand. Sehun felt dirty.

Kai gave him a tight smile before turning his attention to some soldiers who had brought in a sizeable hunk of marble wrapped in rope on a trolley.

“Where would you like to work?” Kai asked.

Sehun scanned the room. He contemplated working close to the artwork on the wall but dismissed that idea immediately, not wanting to cover the art in stone powder. He looked to another set of windows not far from those in front of Kai’s desk and pointed there. He wanted to be as close to natural lighting as possible. The soldiers slowly heaved the stone to the windows, the wheels of the trolley leaving indentations on the carpeting. They used the ropes to maneuver the marble out of the trolley and pushed it upright, then left, saluting Kai before doing so. 

“My tools,” Sehun gasped as he realized he left all of his supplies at home. 

“Don’t worry, I’ve sent for some.” 

Soon, another soldier entered the room, carrying a box. Its contents clanged. He presented the box to Sehun with both hands and he accepted. When the soldier left, Sehun opened the box and goggled at the tools he was given. He ran his hand over the smooth finish on the mallet and the generous array of chisels. They were of superior quality to his own tools, which were beginning to show the signs of continued use. 

Kai smiled, pleased that Sehun was satisfied before heading to his desk. “I’ll leave you to it then. We can have lunch later.”

Sehun nodded. He walked over to the marble and set the box down. The stone too, was of the finest quality. Sehun traced over the delicate tendrils of grey veining through the marble. There was a koi pond outside and Sehun wondered how the fish could survive in the cold. He turned and saw Kai watching him. 

Kai jumped a little and he flushed. He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a sheaf of paper. “You need to plan first, right?”

Sehun nodded. He looked around the office. There was no place to sit apart from Kai’s desk. He sat in the chair he assumed was normally for visitors. The upholstery was fine, and it was much more comfortable than the chairs he had at home but Kai’s leather chair looked much comfier. He pouted. Kai put the paper in front of him and set a little case of pencils down as well. 

Kai shuffled his feet and accidentally nudged Sehun’s. Kai reddened and apologized. 

Sehun smiled to himself. Things were not as bad as he imagined they would be.

~

After several hours of sketching, a light knock sounded on the door. The two looked up to see an oiran in a blue kimono clattering into the room. It was not the girl who came to the tea room. She carried a tray of food. Sehun’s stomach rumbled. He hadn’t eaten breakfast. He studied this girl. She was also very pretty but Kai seemed indifferent to her. No reaction at all. Sehun’s shoulders slumped in relief. He gave no interest to his own behaviour, choosing instead to keep an eye on Kai. Sehun was so engrossed with studying the man across from him that he completely forgot about the food. 

“Eat up, Sehun,” Kai encouraged.

“Huh? Oh right.” It was Japanese food and his nose wrinkled slightly, but food was food. He picked up his chopsticks and used them to slurp up some noodles. 

“How is it?” Kai asked.

It was delicious. He swallowed. “It’s good.”

Kai was about to say something when a knock sounded at the door.

The door opened and the girl in the purple plum flower kimono poked her head in. She looked surprised to see that Kai was not alone. Sehun bristled. The girl smiled tentatively at Sehun but he only intensified his glower. 

Kai stood up so quickly that his chair almost fell over. “Sorry Sehun,” he murmured before making his way to the door. The girl looked angry now, directing her gaze at Kai, and Sehun watched leave and close the door behind him. 

Sehun stopped chewing and breathing, straining his ears to listen in. He couldn’t hear a thing. Were they still there? Sehun recalled what Baekhyun had said about oiran and closed doors and suddenly felt very sick. His stomach churned queasily and the lump of food in his mouth suddenly felt very heavy. He swallowed with great difficulty. His nose stung for some reason. What was happening to him? 

The realization stunned him.

_ I like Kai. _

 

~

Kitayama (北山) means north mountain. 

Ares is interesting because although he’s the god of war, he doesn’t seem to be valued that much when it comes to war and is basically useless. The Greeks tended to favour Athena, who as the goddess of wisdom, was also in charge of military strategy. Athena is also commonly depicted in Greek art with Nike, the goddess of victory. The Romans showed him more respect. Mars was the second most important Roman god, overshadowed only by Jupiter, and he was also made god of masculinity, guardian of agriculture, and father of the Roman people. 

In September 1940, the Japanese occupied French Indochina, which later became Vietnam, Cambodia, Laos, and parts of China. 

Kimonos depicting plum flowers were commonly worn during the wintertime as a seasonal symbol because the tree flowers during late winter. Geta are sandals that resemble flip-flops. They’re usually made out of wood and they have an elevated base kind of like platform shoes. Oiran would wear koma geta, which are really tall geta, with three teeth that elevate the sole. Their feet would typically be bare even during wintertime.

 


	12. Aeneas

Sehun set his chopsticks down with a clatter and an exhale of disbelief. Why was he getting jealous over some stupid officer he’d known for only a few months? When he broke down their relationship, that was essentially all that Kai was to him. 

“No,” he whispered. 

Kai was more than that, so much more. 

The officer’s breathtaking, almost ethereal, beauty had captivated him upon first sight. He recalled his initial desire to sculpt the lieutenant, to immortalize his heavenly form in marble. He was drawn to his statues because they embodied a physical perfection that he was incapable of possessing. Kai, whose beauty rivalved that of Adonis, Hyacinth, and maybe even Apollo himself, roused and stirred the artist in him.

But as he spent more time with Kai, he found himself less drawn to his physicality and more to his laugh, to the things Kai would tell him, to the things he would feel when they spent time together. 

And now he knew why. 

The man in him had also awoken, the physical and mental and emotional constituents of his character had also been affected in a way they never had been before. To label his feelings as merely physical attraction was absurd. He craved for Kai’s mere presence. He sought Kai’s protection. He wanted to have Kai’s arm around him again as the two gazed into the sunset, and feel the air around them settle and feel his restless, afflicted soul be soothed as well… He yearned to talk with him, to learn and hear about his past, his childhood, his thoughts and opinions. He longed to see the wistful smile on Kai’s face when he spoke of the mountains and streams of his homeland or when he spoke passionately of art. 

What to do now? Should anything even  _ be _ done about this revelation of his? What  _ could _ be done? He supposed that he could ignore this and simply will it to pass. 

His breathing turned shallow as he grappled with his feelings. 

The door clicked open again and Kai reentered. Sehun studied Kai carefully, checking for signs of physical disarray. There appeared to be none but then again, he had been out of the room for quite some time. Enough time to rearrange everything and brush away signs of disorder and disorderly conduct. A hot burst of jealousy surged in him once again. 

Okay, so maybe he couldn’t just ignore this. 

Sehun ignored the small smile Kai sent his way. He glared at his sketches instead. He was being obscenely petty, but he thought that he had earned himself that privilege. Kai had pretty much ditched him for several months.  _ It’s his turn to feel rejected. _ A disturbing thought burrowed into his mind that amplified his envy and resentment towards the girl in the purple kimono. In his letter, Kai had said that he had matters to attend to as an explanation for his absence. Had Kai been busy with kimono girl? And what about the other times Kai left him? Had the girl been working here during August? Did Kai go crawling to her the months after the Chuseok fair? Was that why he had no time for Sehun? Kai’s excuse of staying away to avoid suspicion after the fair was flimsy. The officers had already seen him with Sehun at the event, so there was nothing to hide, really. 

He huffed. It wasn’t like it was any of his concern. He had no claim over Kai but… they were close. Close enough that Kai could judge the relationship between him and Chanyeol, so why couldn’t he judge this… this  _ thing _ Kai had going on with an oiran? He knew that the relationship between him and Kai was not a conventional one in terms of patron and artist; was Kai’s forwardness due to his desire to befriend Sehun? Kai had done things that simply just weren’t done between mere friends. Sehun’s forehead burned as he recalled the elder’s chaste kiss. His heart thudded with the memory of Kai calling him beautiful. For a brief moment then, he had felt beautiful, even if he still did not believe the elder. Did Kai seek him out for the sake of lust then? Was it just a physical attraction on his part, just as it had been initially for Sehun? He dismissed the notion; there was no way Kai would find him appealing, even if he had made remarks on his beauty. Sehun knew he was hideous. What was he playing at, then?

Had Sehun missed his chance by allowing mistrust and initial contempt to barricade himself out of Kai’s reach? Was that why he and the girl were engaged in salacious acts behind closed doors? 

Wait. Missed his chance? Sehun shook himself. No. This was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to be glad that… that he and Kai were… whatever this relationship could be defined as and that they hadn’t done anything shameful. He took a deep breath, trying to quell his rage, telling himself that he shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions regarding Kai’s relationship with this girl. 

“Are you alright, Sehun?” Kai’s concerned voice interrupted his thoughts. 

“Hm?” Sehun realized that he had been staring at the paper, his knuckles white as they clenched almost painfully around the pencil. “I’m fine.”

Kai didn’t look like he bought into it but dropped the matter, going back to rifling through a pile of documents on his desk. They sat in silence for a while longer, before Sehun was unable to control himself for any longer.

“Why was she here?” 

Kai looked puzzled. “Who?”

_ Playing dumb, I see how it is. _ Sehun scowled. “The girl in the purple kimono! What did she want?” 

“O-oh,” Kai stuttered, looking slightly surprised at Sehun’s vehemence. “She had some news from, uh, Kitayama, that’s all.” 

Sehun gaped. “Did he just?” he muttered under his breath. 

“What’s that?” 

“Nothing,” he retorted. He pressed his pencil on to the paper and the graphite snapped. Cursing under his breath, he opened the case to grab another. 

“I never knew you had such a potty mouth,” Kai remarked, laughing slightly. 

Sehun stared daggers at the elder, but that only seemed to amuse him more. Fuming, Sehun resolved to spend the rest of the afternoon pretending that Kai did not exist.

Sehun managed to keep it up until the door suddenly opened again. Sehun stiffened. Was kimono girl back? He heard the sound of boots and exhaled. Kai looked curiously at him before nodding at his guest. It was Kitayama. Sehun’s brief moment of relief was quickly replaced once again with anxiety. Sehun began to rise. Kai shook his head minutely, and Sehun plopped back down. 

Kitayama handed an envelope to Kai before turning to Sehun. “How is your work?” Wordlessly, he showed his sketches to the taisa who nodded and seemed satisfied.

Sehun plastered a smile on his face until the taisa left the room. Kai opened the envelope and quickly scanned its contents. His face fell. He looked so dejected that Sehun just had to break the silence. “Is everything okay?”

Sehun stretched out of his chair in an attempt to read the letter that was inside. 

Kai covered his face with his hands. “It’s an invitation to this… meeting next year. It’s not too long from now actually, in January.” 

Meeting? Sehun’s ears perked up. 

“All of the high-ranking officers and government officials stationed in Korea come together and discuss our plans for the year. We squabble on the fate of this country I guess. I attended this year’s meeting, in Incheon. At the time, I was thrilled to have been invited, but after that meeting…”

“What happened?” 

Kai shook his head. “It makes me uncomfortable having so much power over a people I don’t even belong to, having so much jurisdiction in a country I’ve only spent less than two years in. It’s… it’s going to be held in Busan this year. I tried to get out of it but,” he flicked the letter, “I might have to attend.” 

There was no way they could continue with the mission now. He scrambled for excuses to sling at Baekhyun. His hyung wouldn’t buy into any of them. He looked at Kai, who was reading the letter again with furrowed brows. 

“Perhaps it would be prudent for you not to come that day. If I am to be present at the meeting, I won’t be able to stay with you.”

His heart clenched. Even while Sehun was plotting what would essentially be a mass murder, Kai was still thinking of him. He had to find a way to stop Baekhyun. 

He couldn’t do this to Kai. He couldn’t lose Kai.

~

Kai offered to accompany him home when evening descended. A line of automobiles was parked outside. Kai made his way to one of them and nodded at the soldier in the driver’s seat. He held the door open for Sehun before nestling himself beside the younger. 

Kai twitched slightly. He was staring at the building. Sehun looked as well but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Then he saw it.

A uniformed man emerged from the building and approached the vehicle in front of them, a girl in tow. Sehun’s eyes widened as he recognized her. It was the girl in the purple kimono. The man was Kitayama. She laughed as Kitayama tickled her before helping her into the car. He flicked the ashes from his cigarette before grounding it into the slush with his boots, and joined the girl in the car. Sehun blushed. He felt Kai tense beside him and saw Kai staring at the couple as well, a disturbed expression on his face. 

They rode in silence. Sehun didn’t feel like talking and Kai looked too worried to speak as well. Was Kai jealous of Kitayama as Sehun had been jealous of kimono girl? When they arrived at his apartment, he was quick to jump out of the car and scurry to the entrance.

“Sehun!” Kai scrambled after him. The younger turned around. “I’ll pick you up the same time tomorrow, then?”

The younger nodded before making his way to the entrance. He could still sense Kai watching him but didn’t dare turn around. He bit his lip.  _ I like you, _ he wanted to say, to scream. He didn’t dare. How would Kai take it? Sehun could see nothing good coming out of admitting his feelings. When he entered his home, he saw that the lights were on. “Baekhyun?” he called.

“Sehun!” a voice came out of the studio. Baekhyun emerged, smiling. “I brought dinner.”

He could smell steamed dumplings. “How long have you been here?”

“Not long, the mandu are still hot. Sit, let’s eat. How was everything?” Baekhyun asked excitedly, clambering into a chair opposite the younger.

Sehun stuffed his mouth with dumplings and took his time chewing. He shrugged. Baekhyun narrowed his eyes. “I mean, I’m still here in one piece. Here, hyung, eat.” 

Baekhyun sighed. He picked up the mandu Sehun put into his bowl but kept it held in his chopsticks instead of eating it. “That’s good. I’m glad you’re alright. So what are your arrangements going be?”

Sehun shrugged. “I get picked up by Kai at nine in the morning. And then I work until about seven in the evening I guess.”

“Where do you work?”

“In an office.”

“Your officer’s?”

“He’s not mine,” Sehun muttered. Seeing Baekhyun’s questioning look he nodded hesitantly. “Yeah.”

“Where is the office?”

“I-I don’t know. The city hall is huge.”

“Describe it.”

“It’s pretty big. We had go through a lot of hallways to get there so I really don’t remember…”

“The office has windows right? Did you happen to see out of one of them?”

“Um,” Sehun paused unsure of whether or not he should dole out more information to Baekhyun. If the elder believed that Sehun was incapable of planting the bombs, would he call off the mission? Sehun thought to what Baekhyun had said about the bombing being for the good of their countrymen. Was it really? Baekhyun was now looking at him suspiciously. “Y-yeah, I did actually.”

“So what was out there? It might help me narrow down where you’re working.”

“A k-koi pond. A pretty large one. It was a courtyard of sorts. It had Japanese style gardens.” 

Baekhyun raised his brows. “Okay.”

“So where am I working?”

“There are several offices that look into the garden in the east wing of the building. Do you know Kai’s rank?”

“He’s a rikugun chusa.”

“A lieutenant colonel?” Baekhyun looked surprised. “He seems quite young.”

“Yeah.” Sehun looked down. 

“So anything else happen at work?”

“Um, I met some other officers. A chujo, and three taisa.”

“Better get a good look while you still can,” Baekhyun said, chuckling. “By the end of January, they’ll be no more.”

Sehun’s breath caught in his throat.

The elder must have noticed. “Still squeamish, hm? This is a good move, Sehun. The people need some sort of action to spur them forward. Something to convince them that it’s better to be a little badly off financially, but still Korean, than well-off and a builbae. We have to show them that the Resistance is still capable of heroic things!” Baekhyun paused to take a breath. “I hope you haven’t been influenced by—”

“No,” Sehun cut him off. He did like Kai, but that wasn’t going to affect the way he viewed Japanese imperialism. “Is this really what the people want?”

“What do you mean? Of course. Haven’t you heard them at the market?”

Sehun frowned.

“They talk about how they fear that with each passing day, they become even more ground up under the boots of the Japanese. They fear that they’re losing their culture, Sehun. Remember the order to change names?”

He nodded. In 1939, the Japanese issued a decree to have all Koreans surrender their family names and adopt Japanese surnames instead. Sehun had yet to register, as did Luhan and many other people of Busan, although they were by now quickly becoming a minority. He refused to let go of his last name, the only link he had left to his family and ancestors, but still wondered how long the administration would allow him to keep his surname.

“We’ve got to let them know that there’s still hope that one day, we’ll live without them controlling every aspect of our lives! We have to show them that it’s possible that Korea will remain Korea in the future and not continue on as a Japanese colony. Do you want us to turn into some pathetic puppet state like Manchukuo?” Baekhyun had stood up at this point and was waving his arms around. “Your other neighbours have seen Kai visiting, you know. They told me things when I went to the market today to pick up the mandu.”

“W-what?”

“They said that it’s disgraceful that you would associate with the Japanese.” Baekhyun paused and seemed to be deliberating whether or not to say more. Seeing Sehun’s expectant face, he added, “They wondered if your parents had taught you about modesty.”

Sehun felt his heart drop at the mention of his parents. “But I literally had no choice!” he yelled. “And we don’t do anything! They don’t know what they’re talking—”

“I know, I know, I know,” Baekhyun said. “Still, you have to admit that you’re really… close with that officer, Kai. I told everyone I could that you were given a commission. I’m not sure if they bought it. I don’t think my word carries that much weight these days anymore, given father… People start to point fingers when they feel anxious. After we raid the place, they’ll feel better about their prospects of remaining Koreans in this country. They won’t know that you were behind the bombing but at least they’ll be more lenient on you.” 

“I don’t like the Japanese,” Sehun stressed. “But I  _ am _ worried about what they’ll do to us after we blow up the city hall.”

“The Resistance will assume responsibility,” Baekhyun said. “We’ll plant fake evidence that shows that we’ve fled to some other city.” Seeing that Sehun’s expression remained unconvinced, he added, “It’ll be fine.”

“Okay, hyung,” Sehun sighed. Maybe he and Kai could work out a way to have him not attend the meeting. 

“Hey, just how close are you to Kai?”

“W-why do you care?”

“If you can manage to get information about the meeting from him, that would be really helpful.”

“What? Like asking…?”

“No, don’t be ridiculous. He’ll be immediately suspicious. Just like, be close by when he’s talking with other officers and if you happen to overhear anything, you could tell me. How’s your Japanese? Decent? Subpar?”

“Below subpar,” Sehun muttered. 

“We know the date of the meeting but other details, like just how many people are attending, the exact time of the meeting, we’re still a bit blurry on. The meeting should be sometime in the afternoon. There are other offices around Kai’s, right? I mean, this might be too risky, but if you could get inside, and procure some… documents and whatnot, that would be really helpful as well.” Baekhyun sighed. “We need the intelligence. Jongdae’s still having trouble contacting the other resistance groups.”

Sehun bit his lip. He wasn’t sure whether he dared to go anywhere in the city hall without Kai. He supposed that getting more information about the meeting wouldn’t be too much trouble. “I can do that.”

“Great. Right. Kai’s office isn’t too far away from the meeting chamber, so you should be able to slip in before the meeting starts and then bolt the hell out of that place. Kyungsoo and I will be heading over to a factory tomorrow to pilfer some bombs. I’ll probably pay you another visit the day after tomorrow and bring you over to my place sometime next week so we can show you some maps of the city hall.” Baekhyun leaned on the table, serious expression turning playful. “Do you work on weekends?” 

“Um, I’m not sure. I don’t think so. I hope not.”

“Good. I was wondering if I could come over?”

“Sure thing, hyung.”

“Can Chanyeol come over too? He says that he’s usually free before evening on weekends. You did say you wanted to have lunch with him again.”

“Uh.” Sehun didn’t want to intrude on their relationship. “Wouldn’t it be better if you guys had lunch at his place? Or you could go to his restaurant.”

Baekhyun shook his head. “Chanyeol said that a lot of Japanese eat at his restaurant. Apparently my father’s also been there, so I think it’s better if I stay away from there lest I lose my temper. Gotta preserve myself for the mission.” He laughed lightly. “Anyway, I’d feel bad if we were off having fun next door and just left you here. What do you say?”

“Lunch sounds nice. I’ll take care of everything.”

“Sehun,” Baekhyun began. “I know that you and that Jap are close. You can let him off the hook or something… tell him not to go to work that day or whatever in case he gets caught in the crossfire. Is he going to be at the meeting?”

“Yes,” Sehun whispered. 

“How is he so young with this much power and influence? Can you imagine how he climbed the ranks so quickly?” Seeing Sehun’s expression, he stopped. “Just tell him the day of the mission not to interfere and we won’t shoot him. But I also don’t want you hesitating because you’re trying to save him.”

Sehun nodded. He would try to wheedle Kai out of the meeting. 

Baekhyun left after helping Sehun scrub the dishes. He wished that his hyung hadn’t helped him tidy up as it would leave him with something to do. He needed something, anything to preoccupy him and distract him from his thoughts. With the elder gone, Sehun became acutely aware of his loneliness. 

He wanted Kai to be there so that he could free his feelings from their bottled prison. Sehun imagined Kai laughing or a grotesque smirk twisting his face before he took advantage of the younger’s feelings. He cringed. He just wanted to tell someone. A thought struck him. Luhan? He looked outside. It was really late. Would Luhan be home? They hadn’t seen in each other in so long. Sehun had yet to figure out his ge’s offbeat schedule. 

He just needed something to do. He wandered into his studio and flipped on the lights. He didn’t usually sculpt at night. He didn’t think the marble looked as alive under artificial lighting compared to sunlight. He supposed that he could make a few sketches and went over to his desk and picked up a pencil. He rested himself on his arms and sighed. 

“I… like Kai,” he whispered, then said it again, louder. “I like Kai.” That did not help, but it did feel nice to say it out. 

It was frustrating. As if he was holding an overflowing cup of feelings with nowhere to pour.

~

The next day, Sehun felt slightly more confident as the girl in the purple kimono did not show up. With Baekhyun busy plundering factories, it meant that he had more time to spend with Kai. They chose to take dinner in his office instead. Sehun was hesitant to dine out since Baekhyun had told him of how his countrymen viewed his spending time with Kai. 

After an impressive array of sushi was brought into the room by an oiran in blue, the same girl who’d brought them lunch yesterday, Sehun took a deep breath to speak. “What were you doing these past few months?”

Kai looked almost a bit sheepish. “I was working on something.”

“When are you ever going to answer any of my questions properly?”

A sad smile appeared on the officer’s face. “I want to be truthful with you, Sehun, I really do. But there are some things I have to keep concealed for you for your own protection.”

“My protection?”

Kai lowered his head. “I think there are some things that you are better off not knowing.”

“What do you mean?”

“I-it’s nothing bad. Nothing that threatens the Resistance or stuff like that. Just…” Kai trailed off. 

“Can you tell me why you wanted to help me then?”

“There are things about me that… I do not want you to know and perhaps I am scared of how you will react if I tell you.” 

Sehun gaped. “Um, okay. Well, if you’re still interested…”

Kai leaned forward. “Yes, absolutely. Wait, as long as it’s not… something stupid. Or reckless.”

“Um.” What they were planning was both stupid and reckless. “I think it’s an alright plan. Could you tell me more about the meeting in January? Just anything interesting you might know?”

“It’s an assembly of high-ranking Japanese military and government officials from all over Korea. There are plenty of Koreans attending too. I think they are what the younger Byun would call collaborators.”

“Builbae,” Sehun whispered.

Kai nodded thoughtfully. “That’s pretty much it. As I said before, we mostly discuss issues we’ve come across recently, and how we may govern the country. The stuff they talked about during the meeting this January mostly concerned the drafting of Koreans to work in Japan.”

Sehun quickly schooled his features into an expression of curiosity to mask his anger. 

Kai was quicker, though. “A lot of men were conscripted into the army in 1939, so in Japan, there are labour shortages everywhere. Most of the Korean labourers were taken to mainland Japan or Karafuto Prefecture. Some were sent to Manchukuo.”

Sehun knew some men in Busan who had been conscripted. “What do they do?”

Kai shrugged. “They work in factories, mines.” His eyes turned mournful. “The working conditions are not very good.”

The younger wasn’t surprised. “So what will the upcoming meeting address?”

“I’m not completely sure. The invitation was quite vague and we are expected to prepare our own discussion material. Given what I’ve seen and come across, my guess is that there will be talk of the education system and perhaps more efforts to conscript workers. The war in China is intensifying and we’ve sent troops to French Indochina now as well. Workers will be needed more than ever.”

“When will it be?” 

“On January 23.” 

That was four days before Seollal. It was looking like the holidays were going to be ruined. “What time?”

Kai looked at him strangely. “What are you planning on doing? Why do you need to know this?”

“Nothing,” Sehun said quickly. “Doesn’t hurt to know a bit more.” He contemplated telling Kai about Baekhyun’s plan, but decided against it. Even if Kai was willing to help the Resistance, he had still sworn allegiance to Japan. 

“It’s going to start at around two in the afternoon. And end at six. Then there will be a banquet of sorts.” 

“How many people are going to be here?”

Kai propped up his chin with his hand. “I’d say about eighty.” 

“Where are they going to cram eighty people?”

“In the meeting chamber. It’s actually down the hall from where we are,” Kai said. He looked closely at Sehun. 

“Hm.”

“Even if I end up getting out of attending, it’s alright if you come don’t to work that day. I understand if you’re distressed.”

“Huh?”

“By the proximity.”

“Oh,” Sehun said. “I guess. I think you should try and get out of it. Please.”

“I’m working on it.” Kai smiled. “Any other questions, or is this interrogation over?”

“Tell me about Italy. And why you left.” He remembered posing the question before, and Kai dodging it.

Kai’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “I arrived in Italy in September of 1934, when I was fourteen. I was alone in a foreign country and had no grasp of Italian whatsoever.” He chuckled. “The Italians were so welcoming. At the time, Italy was poor, having just gone through the Great Depression. I didn’t have much at the time either. Yet the people of Florence were so hospitable. They invited me to their tables during dinner and told me about their city even if at first I didn’t understand a word they were saying. I learned so much in Italy. The art academy was great but in Florence, the whole city was art.” Kai smiled fondly. “Then in 1938, things started changing. Mussolini was spending a fortune on militarisation and wars abroad and the economic situation worsened. Italy started to sidle closer with the Nazis in Germany and Mussolini started adopting some of the racial policies the Germans propagated.”

Sehun had read about the strong antisemitism in central Europe and how the Nazis viewed Aryans to be the master race. “And then what happened?”

“Well, people started to be hostile towards me,” Kai said. “I don’t particularly blame them. They were in a desperate situation. They hoped the economy would improve but it didn’t and… well, everyone was just very stressed during that time. I… I became scared.” He looked away as if afraid to meet Sehun’s gaze. “That’s why I left.”

“That’s understandable,” Sehun said. He found it odd that Kai would not place blame on the people. “How were they hostile towards you?”

Kai shrugged. “Nothing that left a mark.” 

Sehun thought of his scars and winced. Kai seemed to realize his mistake and rushed to apologize, but Sehun waved him off. “What did they do?” He was curious. Kai did not look like someone who would be easily scared. 

“They would sometimes attack me in the streets. Trash my dormitory. Or call me names,” Kai said and then laughed mirthlessly. “Look at me, being so bratty. It wasn’t anything close to what you had to go through, Sehun.”

“Why don’t you blame them?” Sehun asked. “Surely if they were the ones attacking you…”

“I did dislike what they did to me, but… I felt that it was important to separate the actions undertaken by the government, like passing racial laws, and the reactions of the people. The Florentines I knew were good people, but they were in a bad financial situation and put in all of their faith into a government that promised them a better life. When the government did not deliver, they still held on to their hopes for Mussolini. And so they were moved by some of Mussolini’s policies. Of course, not all Italians were like that, but there were enough to make me want to go back to Japan. I think I might have been a bit homesick as well. They would attack my heritage and insult my family and that made me miss home. In December of 1938, I left Italy. I’m not telling you these things to make you reconsider your views on the Japanese. What they did to you was cruel and as an officer I am… privy to some things that I would rather have not known. There are other horrible things that have been done. But a lot of it is perpetrated by the government and military commanders. The ordinary people, Sehun, they’re not a bad bunch at all.” 

He nodded. He admired the fact that Kai was able to consider the issue from both sides. He put some sushi on Kai’s plate. “Eat up.”

~

After several more days of sculpting and a meeting with Baekhyun at night to pass on the details of the meeting, Saturday finally rolled around. Sehun began making preparations for the lunch. He had gone to the market the earlier that day and picked up some mackerel and sliced pork hock. Kai had paid him yesterday for the work he had done so far on the statue of Mars, which honestly wasn’t a whole lot but the payment was still good, and he thought it was high time he treated himself. He had just finished setting the table when knocks sounded on his door.

“Chanyeol! Hi Baek,” Sehun chirped, ushering the two into his home. The two looked to be in a great mood, laughing and touching each other with such affection that Sehun couldn’t help smiling at the two of them. He wondered if he and Kai could be like that one day. “Let’s eat.”

The three conversed as they stuffed their faces, discussing the giant’s restaurant, and his relationship with Baekhyun. When they started talking about the latter, Chanyeol’s ears turned very red very quickly and he quickly spat out a change of topic.

“So how’s work Sehun?” Chanyeol inquired. “Baek told me you’re working at the city hall.”

Sehun swallowed before speaking. “Yeah. It’s a nice place. Pretty opulent.”

“The Japanese like to show off their plundered wealth,” Baekhyun retorted. Chanyeol sent him a sweet and slightly strained smile.

“So are you sculpting there then?”

“Mm hm. They’ve supplied me with marble and I spend the day carving away.”

“What’re you sculpting?” Baekhyun asked.

“Mars. I’ve just begun chipping off bits to form the general shape. It will actually be fairly easy to sculpt.” Kai had taken his sketches to the chujo and the others and they made their decision. “They wanted Mars sort of rigidly standing.” He got out of his chair to demonstrate. “Like the officers you see in military portraits. He’s holding a spear in one hand with a shining sun at the tip and a shield with a chrysanthemum design like the one on the Imperial Seal. They asked for him to be dressed in Roman style armour.”

The other two hummed. “Sounds interesting,” Baekhyun said. “I’m sure it’ll look fantastic.”

~ 

When they’d finished eating, they lounged around Sehun’s small quarters. Chanyeol wandered into the studio and Baekhyun followed. 

“What’s this, Sehun?” Chanyeol called. 

Sehun made his way into the room and saw the two looking at the sketches he made several nights ago. “Oh, that’s Aeneas. And the woman is Dido.”

“Who are they?” Baekhyun asked. 

“He’s a Greco-Roman hero. He fled Troy after the Trojan War and eventually founded Rome and the Roman race.”

Chanyeol plopped down on the ground and clapped his hands. “Story time!” Baekhyun laughed and joined him, and Sehun sat as well.

“He’s a Trojan prince, son of Venus and Anchises, who was a member of the Trojan royal family. He was told by the gods to flee Troy after they were defeated and sailed around for six years to no avail. Then he was told by Juno to stop at a place called Carthage. The queen of Carthage, a woman called Dido, fell in love with Aeneas. They had a makeshift sort of wedding that was presided over by Juno. Juno favoured the Carthaginians and was told that Carthage would one day be destroyed by Aeneas’ descendants.”

Baekhyun gasped and Chanyeol wrapped the younger in an embrace protectively. Sehun paused to smile fondly at them. “Go on, Sehun,” Chanyeol urged.

“Right, so Aeneas stayed with Dido for a year and Dido wanted them to jointly rule over Carthage. But then Venus realized that Carthage was but a temporary respite from Aeneas’ journey and duty to found Rome, so she and Jupiter sent Mercury to remind Aeneas of his mission. And so he left.”

“He what?” Chanyeol roared.

Sehun smiled sadly. “Dido uttered a curse that would forever pit Carthage against Rome, leading to the Punic Wars. And then she committed suicide. She stabbed herself with Aeneas’ sword.”

“And then what?” Chanyeol demanded.

Sehun shrugged. “That’s it.” 

The giant crossed his arms. “Aeneas sounds like a real tosser. How can he be seen as a hero?”

“What do you mean?” Baekhyun asked. “He founded Rome!”

“Yeah, he ditched his lover after spending a whole year with her. And marrying her! And then he just severed all ties with her. He could’ve, I don’t know, taken her with him or something.”

“It was his duty to complete his journey.”

“He just sounds like a scoundrel. Does love mean nothing in this world anymore?”

Baekhyun stuck his tongue out. “Yah, what’re you saying?” 

Chanyeol chuckled and rested his forehead against Baekhyun’s. “I’ll never leave you like Aeneas left Dido.”

Baekhyun lightly brushed their lips together. “I know you won’t.”

Sehun felt his eyes watering slightly at the emotional scene. He cleared his throat and the two hastily parted. 

Baekhyun traced Sehun’s sketches, which he held in his hands. “Is that why they’re positioned like this? Apart? With Dido reaching for Aeneas’ retreating figure?”

Sehun nodded.

“Oh gosh, she’s holding the sword too. It is kind of sad that they couldn’t be together. But I… understand Aeneas’ pull to his duty.” Baekhyun paused. “I think I remember reading something about this actually. In the Underworld… Aeneas went to Elysium. But Dido was sent to the Mourning Fields.” 

“Explain” the giant demanded. 

“Elysium was a place where people who were righteous… and heroic could go after death,” Baekhyun answered. “And the Mourning Fields was where the souls of people who had wasted their lives on unrequited love were cast.”

Sehun plucked the sheets from Baekhyun’s fingers, feeling the mood glooming. “Let’s do something fun.” 

“Can we watch you sculpt?” the giant asked.

“Sure. You guys can help me if you want.”

“Are we sculpting Aeneas and Dido?” Baekhyun asked, getting up. 

Sehun nodded. “They’re two separate statues so you guys can each attend to one.” He went over to his tools and instructed his hyungs on the basics. By the time evening came, all three were covered in marble dust and tired. Baekhyun and Chanyeol left, the smaller male being carried by the giant. Sehun blushed; Baekhyun had whispered to him that Chanyeol managed to procure a rare evening off and that they were headed to a hotel. 

Sehun remained standing in the doorway long after his hyungs left, feeling more lonely than ever.

 

~

There was an order to adopt Japanese surnames early on in the colonial period but the Japanese didn’t allow it anymore in 1911 and Koreans had to revert back to their original surnames. Then in 1939, they reversed that statement. The Japanese ordered that Korean surnames should be surrendered and that citizens should adopt Japanese surnames. From what I’ve read, many Koreans were pressured into doing so, with claims that they would be better assimilated.

Labour conscription started in 1939 and workers were sent to mainland Japan or Karafuto. Some were sent to Manchukuo, which was formerly Manchuria. Karafuto, now called Sakhalin and now owned completely by Russia, was the south side of an island that was divided up between Japan and Russia. There were more than 43,000 Koreans sent to Karafuto and when the war ended, they weren’t allowed back into Korea or Japan and so were trapped there. A large Korean population still remains in Sakhalin today. 

Manchukuo was a puppet state set up by the Japanese government in northern China. It was ruled by Puyi, who was the last emperor of the overthrown Qing dynasty.

Italian racial laws came into effect in November of 1938. It was actually opposed by a lot of Italians and the racial laws mostly targeted Jewish people, but it did include bits about how non-Europeans should be targeted. 

Thanks for reading! <3

 


	13. Pleasure

Sehun watched in sorrow as two soldiers heaved his Apollo away from the window and to another corner of the room instead. The marble would shine brilliantly and reflect the snow outside and both Kai and Sehun had complained of the brightness burning their eyes and requested it to be relocated to another place in the the office. It now stood underneath the chandelier, a strategic position which allowed the glow of the light to highlight the contours of the statue and slight translucency of the marble but not in such a way that would cause an overwhelming luminosity to assault the visual senses. Sehun regretted saying anything because although the statue looked great underneath the chandelier, he felt that the moving the statue out of its full splendor under the sun was somehow akin to hiding Apollo. 

“You and I have half the day off tomorrow,” Kai announced once the soldiers left. “I was wondering if you would like to spend the day together?” 

Sehun turned around from where he was sculpting and nodded. It was New Year’s Eve. During the Meiji Restoration, the Japanese began to celebrate New Year’s on the first of January and implemented aspects of the holiday in Korea. As long as they didn’t abolish the tradition of Lunar New Year—and they didn’t—Sehun did not mind. It only meant a chance for many people in Busan to have a day off work and for Sehun to only have half the day off apparently. But he would be with Kai, which made up for his shorter break.

His days thus far had been humdrum and fairly prosaic. Kai would pick him up in the mornings, they would have dinner in the evenings, and then Kai would drop Sehun back home where he would be greeted by an ornery Baekhyun who would sometimes then drive Sehun over to the elder’s home to discuss the mission with the others. His weekends were spent with Baekhyun and Chanyeol or at Baekhyun’s place. He was constantly on edge; he was given a crash course on how to plant bombs and his mind was still reeling with the information and responsibility on his shoulders. His hyungs would say deplorable things and it seemed that recently they were increasing the toxicity of their remarks to test Sehun’s reaction. His heart was in the Resistance but his heart also belonged to Kai and he couldn’t bear to think of hurting the young lieutenant. He wished that he was not so reticent so he could tell Kai of his true feelings but he feared how the other would react. 

Seeing Kai was the only comfort amid the chaos that his life had recently become. However, being in such close proximity to Kai all day was fraying his nerves as well. Everyday before he slept he would touch himself but it still wasn’t enough.

When Sehun took too long to respond, Kai got out of his chair and made his way over to the younger. “Do you want to do something that day?”

Sehun’s heart fluttered. “I-I… sure. Yes, of course. W-what were you thinking of?”

“What would you like to do?” When Sehun shrugged, Kai laughed. “I would like to see more of Busan. Would you protest to showing me around?”

Sehun bit his lip. He had fond memories of the playground near his school. He didn’t know if it still existed. He hadn’t visited since he was still a pupil there and made a note to check someday soon. 

“There are plum blossoms in the parks,” Kai added. “They’re spectacular.”

Sehun thought of the the plums decorating the purple kimono of the oiran and humphed. Kai was still looking at him hopefully and he worried his lip more. Baekhyun’s remarks about the people at the market had gotten to him. Was he disgracing his parents and all they had done and what they had stood for by becoming close with Kai? Was he dishonouring his heritage by falling for a man his people perceived to be the enemy? He wasn’t sure if he felt entirely comfortable taking a promenade around town and being hailed a traitor in the process. 

“I don’t really mind what we do,” Sehun mumbled shyly. “So long as we do it together. H-how… about you come over and we can… talk? I can pick up some treats at the market tomorrow morning. Pickings are better early in the day.”

“That sounds good.”

“Great!” Sehun smiled enthusiastically. “Let me finish this arm and we can continue this over lunch.” 

When their food was brought in around noon, the two sat down and began to eat.

“I have some news for you.” Kai wiped his mouth on a napkin. “The meeting at the end of the January? I won’t be attending.”

Sehun coughed. “Really?” His shoulders relaxed dramatically as the weight of around half a month’s worth of misgivings regarding Baekhyun’s plot and dread at having to plant the explosives that had the potential to harm Kai evaporated at the announcement. He had also been worried about the kind of things Kai would hear at the meeting and was afraid that the elder, even though he’d attended such meetings before, would become like the others. “I-well, it’s too bad you can’t go anymore. Now you’re going to be stuck with me for another day.” 

Kai laughed. “I’m glad the meeting location’s been changed. It meant that I didn’t have to fight chujo quite so hard to convince him.” 

“Wait. The location’s been changed?” Sehun echoed.

“To Seoul. There are more officers stationed there and in Incheon as well, so they decided that it’ll be less of a hassle to hold it there. Unfortunately it’ll be quite a journey for the officers here to go to Seoul.” 

“Why? But the Gyeongbu Line…” The railway line connecting Busan was one that he and his parents had used to escape. He remembered the journey as being fairly swift.

“Indeed. However, a lot of troops are being sent to China via the Gyeongbu Line and probably because of this, it’s become the target for many resistance groups to attack.”

“Oh.” Sehun shrank. “Not my Resistance though.” 

“No,” Kai agreed. “And thank goodness for that. The line isn’t just used by Japanese. Many Koreans get hurt when these attacks happen and the consequences of course are always shouldered by them. They have to pay for the railway fixtures.” Kai looked at Sehun sternly. “In fact one of the main issues that they plan to be discuss at the meeting is how… resistors should be punished.” 

“Like you guys don’t do enough of that already,” Sehun fumed before taking a deep breath. “Let’s talk about tomorrow.”

Kai frowned then nodded. “Let’s.”

~

“See you tomorrow, then.” Kai shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and kicked at imaginary pebbles on the ground. 

“Right.”

Even in the semi-darkness, Sehun could see a flush painting Kai’s cheeks. Without warning, Kai leaned in a pressed a quick peck on Sehun’s soft lips before murmuring another quick goodbye and descending the stairs. Sehun remained stoic until the sound of footsteps faded. With a quick shudder, he snapped to attention and brought a trembling hand to his mouth. Sehun beamed almost maniacally. 

Butterflies burst forth inside him and fluttered throughout his being in swarms of tingling sensations and ripples of heat. He could still feel warm, plush lips against his own. He erupted into giggles of happiness and disbelief, leaning back against his door when his gelatinous legs could no longer support his swaying weight. Brushing his fingers against the smooth skin of his lips, Sehun sighed contently before his support was suddenly yanked away. 

He fell back with a yelp into the arms of a rather disgruntled Baekhyun. 

“Sehun? I thought I heard you come up. What’re you still doing outside? I’ve been waiting for ages.”

The younger grasped his hyung’s arm as he stood. “O-oh. Um. Headache.”

“You do look kinda red.” Baekhyun pressed a hand on Sehun’s forehead. “And you feel really hot. Do you have a fever? We can meet up with the others tomorrow if you feel out of sorts.”

Sehun shook Baekhyun off. “I’m fine hyung.”

“Alright.” The elder shrugged and led the way out of Sehun’s apartment and the two walked to the shadows where Baekhyun’s automobile was parked. Sehun clambered in and stared out of the window for the entirety of the journey, ghosting the tips of his fingers against his lips. He smiled goofily. When the car stopped outside the elder’s residence, Baekhyun looked over at Sehun with a concerned glance. “Are you alright?”

“Hm? What? I’m fine.” Sehun stepped out of the car and made his way towards the entrance, the elder staring after him with narrowed eyes. “Hyungs!” he cried when they entered Baekhyun’s apartment.

“My favourite dongsaeng!” Jongdae yelled, launching himself against the younger. “It’s been so long!”

Kyungsoo emerged out of the kitchen and ran over to swat the technician with enough force to knock him over. “Calm yourself. It’s only been a few days since Sehun’s last visit.” He turned to Sehun with a smile. “Dinner’s almost ready. Sorry about Jongdae. Baekhyun’s father sent over some chocolate and he’s on a sugar high. Not in a right state of mind. It’s on the table, help yourself.”

“What? So you mean I’m not his favourite dongsaeng?”

Kyungsoo shrugged. “You probably are. It’s definitely not me. Anyway, none of that matters, as long as  _ I’m _ your favourite hyung.”

Junmyeon was putting the finishing touches on bowls of jajangmyeon in the kitchen and looked offended. “What? I thought I was your favourite hyung.”

Sehun padded over to Junmyeon and hugged his back. “No, you’re my favourite umma.” 

Kyungsoo chortled and Junmyeon sighed. “I’ll take it.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Sehun said, taking the platter of chopsticks and plates from Kyungsoo, who nodded in thanks and went back to stir frying the bulgogi.

Sehun and Jongdae set the table in the dining room and the others brought in the bowls of noodles and the pan of bulgogi. Sehun brought his face to the fragrant beef and inhaled. The others settled down. 

“So, all the newspapers have been shut down.” Jongdae muttered as he furiously mixed his noodles. 

“What do you mean?” Sehun asked. 

“The Japanese shut down all Korean language newspapers and news agencies owned by Koreans. This means we’ll have to find other ways to get hold of information. I mean, not that much reporting was done but it was enough to fairly understand what was happening around the world.” 

Sehun slurped some jajangmyeon. He loved reading the news. “Are there going to be no newspapers now?” 

Kyungsoo shook his head. “They’ll still be selling Japanese newspapers.” 

“But none of us know Japanese well enough to read them,” Sehun protested.

“That’s imperialism for you,” the sniper retorted with his mouth full.

The Resistance head placed generous portions of bulgogi in the others’ plates. “Sehun, any news you picked up at work recently?”

Sehun perked up. “There’s been a massive change of plans.”

The clattering of metal chopsticks on fine china and loud chewing instantly halted. Baekhyun leaned in. “What do you mean?” 

“The meeting’s going to be held in Seoul instead.”

Silence. Kyungsoo cradled his head in his hands. Jongdae looked lost. Junmyeon frowned. Baekhyun turned white. “Who told you that?”

“Kai,” Sehun said nervously. “He honestly doesn’t know a thing about the Resistance’s plans a-and I trust him enough to know that he’s telling the truth.”

“We know you wouldn’t bring us false information,” Kyungsoo told Sehun. “But… this is so abrupt. Why would they host the meeting in Seoul?”

“There are more officers stationed in Seoul,” Sehun said. “And Incheon is very close by.”

“They’ll be travelling on the Gyeongbu Line then,” Baekhyun said thoughtfully. “We can’t let our explosives go to waste.”

Sehun saw the glint in Baekhyun’s eyes and decided that he did not like it. “Don’t…”

“It would be unreasonable to plant the bombs on the railway.” Kyungsoo threw an assuring look towards Sehun and resumed eating. “Many civilian trains also travel on that line. And the most we can do is stop a few truckload of soldiers or a couple of freight trains.”

“Right,” Jongdae agreed. “There are a few resistance groups up north that bomb the tracks and the Japanese then force our people to pay for the damages. They’re fairly… radical. I’ve tried to contact them but I think they’ve all been executed. Pulling stunts like that is no piece of cake.”

“We do need to execute some sort of scheme by the end of January though,” Junmyeon commented. “It’s not just about resistance; it’s also about maintaining morale and a will to remain independent from the Japanese.”

“Today they’ve taken away our newspapers and a vital form of communication for our countrymen.” Baekhyun slammed his hand on the table. “What’s next? I refuse to read the Japanese newspapers that only report half of the story. Most Koreans can’t even read Japanese that well. Will they force us to speak their language instead of Korean? Will they stop teaching Korean history in schools? Will they simply erase our the history of Korea from existence?”

Kyungsoo stuck his chopsticks in his bowl and nodded fervently. Jongdae whooped before scarfing down the rest of his noodles. Even Junmyeon, who in addition to being the oldest and most responsible out of all of them, was indeed the mother of the group and the person that Sehun supposed to be the least bellicose out of all of them. Junmyeon furrowed his brows now before nodding determinedly. “We’ll think of something. We risked our lives to get those explosives. I’m not letting that effort go unwasted.”

“Kai told me that they’re going to be discussing how people in the Resistance or in groups that protest Japanese rule should be dealt with. I think that they don’t think their current methods are effective enough because… I mean look at us.”

“We’ll we can’t just stop because we’re scared of being killed,” Kyungsoo argued. He puffed out his chest. “We must act like the Resistance heroes the people want us to be.”

Sehun sighed. He wasn’t worried about them. He was worried about uninvolved citizens who were often the ones to receive the brunt of the consequences for the Resistance’s actions. Yet he saw the merits in Baekhyun’s argument. Was it better to remain idle to the atrocity of Japanese rule and witness one’s culture being systematically demolished or attack one’s oppressors but have to watch innocent civilians suffer the dire punishments? Was he being a coward by merely wanting to take a less brazen stance?

“Our spirit of… opposition is all we have left,” Baekhyun proclaimed. He ruffled Sehun’s hair. “Don’t fret, we’ll think of something to do.”

Sehun chewed on his lip.  _ That’s what I’m scared of. _

~

The next morning, he tossed up a quick breakfast and waited for Kai to knock on his door. 

It had snowed quite heavily last night and looking out the window, Sehun decided that he couldn’t linger in his apartment any longer. Grabbing his coat, he rushed outside and indulged himself in the youthful joy of stomping in untouched snow and throwing up handfuls of cold fluffiness into the air and marvelling at the way the crystals glittered. It was a cloudless day and the sun reflected off of the snow and into his eyes almost painfully, but he didn’t care. A snowball flew out of nowhere and exploded into powdery coldness against his neck, tossing icy particles into his collar.

“Happy New Year!” a rich baritone voice called out.

Sehun screeched and turned around. He identified the culprit to be a mirthful Kai and wasted no time in pelting the elder with snowballs of his own. 

“Happy New Year,” smirked Sehun in response.

Kai counterattacked without delay and in no time, the two were embroiled in a conflict of their own amidst the war-ravaged state of the world, although their struggle was centered on grounds of merriment rather than hostility and hatred.

“I think we have to go now,” Kai said, smiling sadly before pelting one more snowball at Sehun and bursting into gleeful laughter. Sehun wiped the snow off of his face before chasing after the elder. When they arrived at the automobile, the soldier who drove them everyday tried to contain a smile at their tousled appearances. 

Chanyeol exited the building and caught sight of the vehicle. The soldier in the front seat waved to Chanyeol and the giant gave him a slight bow of acknowledgement in return. He saw Sehun in the backseat with Kai and waved at him. “Hi Sehun.” 

“Morning Chanyeol.”

“Well, I’m off to work,” Chanyeol said. “Haha.” He bowed slightly to Kai who gave him a stiff nod in return. “Tell Baek I’d like to see him again. Um, outside of our weekend gatherings. He won’t tell me where he lives.”

Giggling at the pout on Chanyeol’s face, Sehun nodded. “Will do.”

“Him and the Byun boy?”

Sehun looked at Kai’s skeptical face and shrugged. “I think they’re cute together.”

~

Sehun slaved the morning away, feeling that time went by faster if he busied himself with sculpting. Kai was content to leave Sehun alone and spent his time rifling through documents and scribbling in a notebook. He left the room several times, leaving Sehun a bit anxious, but always returned swiftly and with a reassuring smile. 

At noon, they made their way out of the office and Sehun saw the girl in the purple kimono again. The garment showed off her slim neck and the back of her shoulders. Her skin was smooth, unblemished. She held a tray of tea in her hands and was teetering precariously on the geta she wore. Kai rushed forward to help her walk and Sehun felt his gut clench. 

Before Kai could reach her, two soldiers emerged from a corridor behind her and began to pull at her clothes. Sehun froze, horrified as the two men groped her. Kai yelled and they leapt back, looking afraid. Kai reprimanded them harshly, gesticulating furiously and waited for the two to scurry away before turning to the girl. She was trembling. Kai calmed down and leaned in close and whispered to her while she nodded. She caught sight of Sehun and slightly pushed Kai away and tilted her head in his direction as if reminding him that Sehun was still there. 

Sehun felt envious of their apparent closeness and twisted his mouth when Kai brought her close for a hug and to whisper something into her ear before letting her wobble off. She turned to Sehun and shot him a sweet smile with her alluringly painted lips. Sehun couldn’t quite place her expression. It was not flaunting; she was not trying to boast of her intimacy of Kai. She positioned herself as if she wanted to come closer to Sehun but he turned away. He couldn’t bear to see her right now. Taking the hint, she wobbled away in her geta. Sehun stared longingly at her retreating figure. She was so beautiful. How Sehun wished to be as unmarred and lovely as her.

Would Kai notice him then? Did Kai also press sweet kisses on her lips? What was Kai’s relationship with this girl anyway?

“Sehun?”

“H-huh?”

“Are you alright?” Kai approached him cautiously. 

Sehun frowned at how guardedly Kai sometimes handled himself around him and mentally compared it to the ease and comfort with which he moved around kimono girl. “Yes. I’m fine.” He began making his way outside. Kai followed. 

He shivered as images of the soldiers grabbing the girl flashed in his mind. Now that his mind was no longer raging over Kai’s interaction with the oiran, the events that just transpired suddenly became more stark and vivid. Sehun was glad that Kai saved her. Of course Kai would save her. Sehun found himself wishing that Kai could have been there to save him when he was attacked in Seoul. His nose stung and he blamed it on the cold of the outdoors. 

He smiled shakily at the soldier who was their driver. This soldier was fairly pleasant and perhaps being in a building crowded with Japanese who couldn’t hurt him due to Kai’s protection had made him forget just what they were capable of. Could he trust no one? He could trust Kai, right? He pressed his face to the window as he remembered their kiss from last night. If Kai was willing to be intimate with him, then why was he so affectionate with the girl? 

A month ago, Sehun would not cared so much. But his recent revelation left him wanting to pursue something even if he didn’t know quite what it was that he wanted. 

When they arrived at the apartment, Kai waved off the car and followed Sehun up into his home. Kai shot the younger a few questioning glances at his stormy demeanor but didn’t vocalize his thoughts. 

Sehun wandered into the studio room and was ogling his marble creations. They were so beautiful, so perfect. The sun caressed their supple forms enticingly, gliding over the smooth finish that was unmarked with scars. He gulped when he sensed Kai coming up behind him. “Th-that girl… the oiran.”

“I’m sorry you had to see that. It’s not exactly a routine occurrence. A lot of the soldiers, especially the young and newly recruited are quite…” Kai sighed sadly. 

Sehun sniffled.

“Um, if you’re worried about… her, I give you my utmost assurance that she is alright. She’s a strong person. Very brave.” 

“Do you like her?” Sehun turned around and bored his wet eyes into Kai’s surprised ones, trying to look as intimidating and detached as possible but only succeeding in looking lost and vulnerable.

“W-what?”

“It’s a simple question, Kai.”

Kai was silent for a moment. Sehun felt his heart breaking at sight of a flurry of emotions making their way across Kai’s perfect visage. Kai suddenly burst into a peal of laughter that sent Sehun stumbling back. The elder noticed and tried to control his hysteria. “Sehun. I don’t like her.” 

Sehun narrowed his eyes.

“Is that why you were so… grouchy whenever you saw her?”

“Oh…” Sehun thought he was being subtle. “You noticed?”

Kai took a step towards Sehun. “Sehun, there is absolutely nothing going on between me and… that girl.” When Sehun didn’t say anything, Kai clasped Sehun’s hands. “I promise you.”

Sehun sucked in a breath and exhaled heavily. “I-I’m sorry I don’t why I’m so…”

Kai smiled and brushed away an errant tear. “I don’t like her because…” Kai ducked his head and worried his bottom lip. Then, seeming to come to a conclusion, he squared his shoulders and looked the younger in the eye. “I like you.”

Sehun’s heart stopped. “W-what?”

“I like you, Oh Sehun.” Kai cupped Sehun’s hands with warm, trembling hands. 

Sehun’s voice caught in his throat. “I like you too,” he admitted softly and felt so happy at finally saying it out loud.

Kai beamed happily, eyes turning into crescents. He pulled Sehun into a tender embrace. Sehun shuddered into the touch, savouring the sensation and proximity, bliss pouring out of his every pore. He felt Kai’s Adam’s apple bob as the elder swallowed. Kai nuzzled Sehun’s shoulder. “Why would you think anything otherwise?”

“I don’t know,” Sehun mumbled.

“Why else would I have kissed you last night?”

Sehun’s face flamed. He grinned cheekily. “Do it again so I can be sure?”

Kai chuckled and brought his mouth to Sehun’s. Sehun’s eyelids fluttered shut and his eyelashes grazed against Kai’s. The elder pulled away after a moment and Sehun whined. 

Kai combed through Sehun’s locks and gazed at him fondly. 

Sehun was so blown away by the look of raw, unhinged emotion and tenderness in Kai’s eyes that he had to look away, guilty for suspecting that Kai could be immoral. “It’s just… the oiran. She’s so gorgeous and I guess I felt, I don’t know. I… I’m hideous. Why would you be a-attracted to me? I’m not as pretty as her so why would you choose me when—”

Kai cut Sehun off with another kiss. He pulled away, breath heavy. “Sehun. You’re beautiful. You’re  _ so _ beautiful.”

Sehun barked out a mirthless laugh. 

Kai’s face crumpled and he yanked at his hair in frustration. “Why can’t you see it?” He traced Sehun’s brow with his finger before taking a deep breath. “If you refuse to see it, then let me show you.” 

“W-what?” 

Kai pulled Sehun’s body close and ground himself against the younger’s lean form. Both men groaned. Kai turned his heated eyes to Sehun’s face, silently asking for permission. Sehun crashed his lips against Kai’s in response. The two grappled against each other and the walls and eventually made it into Sehun’s bedroom. 

The curtains were parted widely and sunlight poured into the room. Sehun was gently lowered on his bed. The bed creaked slightly under their combined weights and for a brief moment Sehun feared that it was going to collapse and his blanket was bunched fairly uncomfortably behind his back but he didn’t care. 

He looked at Kai through half-lidded eyes, breath heaving and face flushed. Kai went on top of him, supporting himself with his elbows, and pressed their clothed erections together. Sehun gasped and his hips involuntarily jerked up. 

Kai growled and heaved himself up to tear off his jacket and unbutton his uniform. He tossed it away, the decorations making a tinkling sound as they hit the floor. His shirt came off next. Sehun fixed his eyes on the smooth honey skin that Kai was baring to him. He roamed his eyes along the muscled planes of Kai’s chest and down the succulent abs of his abdomen. He raised his hands to glide along the man’s flawless body and Kai pressed into his touch with a soft, content sigh. Kai tugged on Sehun’s coat.

“Please. I want to see you.” Kai leaned down and trailed a pattern of kisses along Sehun’s exposed neck, spilling a current of warm, scalding coolness against Sehun’s flushed skin. Sehun nodded frantically. He took off his coat and hesitantly unbuttoned his shirt. Sehun wrapped his arms around himself. Kai gently peeled his arms away. The elder pressed feathery kisses against the scar tissue adorning his pale chest. “So beautiful,” Kai murmured. 

Sehun’s heated skin got even hotter. He twisted uncomfortably as his pants grew unbearably tight. Kai’s eyes sought his for approval before undoing the buttons of Sehun’s trousers and pulling them down Sehun’s lithe legs. Sehun expelled a sigh of relief when the only barrier between his member and the cool air was the sheer fabric of his briefs. Kai clambered off the bed to rip off his pants and palmed his groin as he stared at Sehun’s pliant form on the bed.

Sehun’s milky body practically glowed in the sunlight and this made him acutely aware of his half-nakedness. He didn’t mind though, and peeked at the officer through his lashes. Kai smiled at Sehun, seeming pleased that Sehun was not too self-conscious about his scars anymore, and the slight swell of Kai’s cheekbones and the gentle curve of his lips seemed to outshine even the rays of the sun itself. 

Hands went to hook around the band of Sehun’s undergarment and he sat up. He bit his lip. “I-I don’t know if I’m ready…”

Kai shushed him. “I know, don’t worry.” 

Sehun was fixated on Kai’s actions. The elder slid his briefs down his long, muscled legs and he stared at Kai’s engorged manhood, transfixed. His own erection twitched and wetness began seeping out and staining his underwear. Embarrassed, Sehun pulled the material off and tossed it on top of Kai’s on the floor. 

Kai crawled over him and carressed Sehun’s cheek gently before gliding his hands along Sehun’s toned body. His hands made their way to Sehun’s phallus and he stroked the flushed organ lovingly. The officer took Sehun’s hand and pressed it to his own raging erection. Sehun pumped Kai’s hard length and the elder groaned, grinding his hips down to press their groins together. Sehun writhed underneath the lieutenant and gasped and Kai took the opportunity to envelope Sehun’s soft lips with own, tongue arching to explore the hot, velvety cavern of Sehun’s mouth. Kai swallowed the moans that came out of Sehun’s mouth and intermingled them with his own hoarse groans of pleasure. 

He jerked in Kai’s hand and he came over both of them. Kai released not long after and collapsed on to his trembling arms that prevented him from squashing Sehun. 

It was late in the afternoon and the sun was beginning to set. Sehun smiled at Kai, who rolled over on his back. He spooned Sehun from behind, Kai’s manhood resting flush against the supple skin of Sehun’s behind. Sehun leaned back into the comforting hold and pulled the blanket over the two of them. 

Sehun yawned and felt his eyes begin to droop. Although it was not quite nighttime yet, Sehun did not think he would be able to wake until morning. As he drifted off to dreamland, he felt Kai kiss his cheek.

“Happy New Year, Sehun,” Kai whispered. 

 

~

The Meiji Restoration restored imperial rule to Japan under Emperor Meiji. Emperors existed in Japan for a long time before this, but this event consolidated the political system and restored practical rule under the Emperor of Japan. The Meiji period lasted from 1868 to 1912 and saw Japan develop from a feudal society into a Westernized and industrialized nation. Emperor Taisho of the Taisho period succeeded the Meiji Emperor and the Taisho was succeeded by Emperor Hirohito, who was the reigning emperor of Japan during WWII and when this story takes place. Emperor Hirohito is now known as the Showa Emperor and his reign the Showa period. 

Newspaper censorship first occurred in Korea in 1907, but the Japanese relaxed the rules in the 1920s. However, in 1940, when the war in China was intensifying, they shut down all Korean language newspapers. I know that the year was 1940 but I’m not too clear on the date, so in this story just pretend that it happened on New Year’s Eve. 

Thanks for reading! <3

 


	14. Run

Sehun woke up the next day at noon. He stretched, yawning widely and curling his toes, before snuggling into his pillow. He heard a door opening and lifted his head to see Kai emerging out of his bathroom. He approached the foot of the bed and grinned. Sehun blushed and ducked under the covers.

“How are you feeling?” Kai asked.

The young lieutenant’s delicate baritone sounded huskier than usual. It was most likely because he had just woken up, if the slight warmth of the bed on places where Sehun had not lain was any indication. Or perhaps it was their activities last afternoon that caused his voice to grow scratchy. Sehun was once again inundated with memories and his face heated up. Blood rushed to his nether regions and he squirmed in mild discomfort. He bunched the blanket up over his body, thinking that Kai would leave.

“You have a little problem there, I see,” Kai teased.

So his blanket wasn’t as thick as he thought it was. He uncovered his head and stuck out his tongue. “Yah. It’s too early for this.”

Kai hummed. “Well, I’ll make breakfast.”

Sehun smiled. “I want to help! Let me wash up and I’ll join you shortly.”

As he stepped into the bathtub, he noticed a patch of dried semen on his abdomen. Was it his or Kai’s? He blushed.

His thoughts drifted to the previous day. Did Kai think him wicked for enjoying such salacious acts, given what happened to him six years ago? Was it immoral? When soldiers in the streets would leer at him or try to chat him up, he felt dirty. It wasn’t like that with Kai. When Kai cast his heated eyes upon Sehun’s milky form sprawled out on the sheets, and touched him… he had felt beautiful. He stepped out of the shower, shivering, and wrapped himself in a towel. The scent of hot oil reached his nose and his stomach grumbled.

After changing, he padded to the kitchen, where Kai was lowering battered shrimp into a pan of sizzling oil. He was crouched down, his face angled away from the stove. He noticed Sehun coming in and beamed. Kai dropped the shrimp into the pan and yelped, leaping back to shield himself from the hot spritzes of oil.

Sehun giggled and went to help Kai prepare breakfast.

They worked next to each other in content silence, glancing at each other every so often as if curious as to how their relationship would now progress. He looked at Kai, who was setting the table, and savoured the feeling of domestic bliss.

If someone were to tell him that there was war raging in China, in Europe, in Africa, that Baekhyun was likely planning some grisly alternate plan of action that involved the pilfered explosives, he would openly laugh. He worried about his hyungs but his stress soon fizzed to nothing. Kai’s presence wrapped the two of them in a bubble of joyful ignorance.

Cooking with the young lieutenant, languishing the presence of the elder, being close enough to feel Kai’s warmth… everything seemed right with the world. The war could not touch them here.

Kai noticed him staring, and beamed.

He remembered what Baekhyun said about starting the new year off right. He smiled back.

_I am._

~

The next few weeks passed quickly.

Sehun used the money from the second part of Kai’s payment to buy a piece of amber and carved it in secret. He presented a small carving of a shining sun for Kai on his birthday to the lieutenant’s pleasure.

They continued to explore their relationship, although they were both content and wanting to take things slow, unsure and perhaps a bit afraid of taking things further. Kai initially spent his nights at Sehun’s place where they touched and did nothing more but now withdrew himself from sleeping over.

Sehun was initially worried that Kai only liked him so that they could continue to engage in sensual acts together, that he would run off to someone else if Sehun did not respond with enough enthusiasm. Kai was given more assignments at work and was also responsible for preparing some of the material those from the Busan administration would take to the meeting in Seoul and had lashed out at Sehun out of stress. Sehun was initially shocked and listened to Kai’s reprimands and worries that he was making Sehun do things he was uncomfortable with but shut Kai up with a kiss. Kai promised to be less physical and although Sehun missed his absence at night, he was secretly glad that the officer seemed to want him for reasons beyond physical pleasure.

Baekhyun had now decreased the frequency of his visits at night and Sehun had only been to visit Junmyeon, Kyungsoo, and Jongdae twice. Sehun wondered how they would be using the explosives but Baekhyun only mentioned something vaguely about interrupting transport routes. He was a bit suspicious of Baekhyun’s reluctance to talk about their plans given the elder’s enthusiasm regarding such matters at any other given time but shrugged it off. It only meant that the time he spent with his hyungs was spent fooling around and laughing instead of engaging in mildly uncomfortable discussions regarding patriotism and morality.

It felt good not to talk about the Resistance and their plans for the Japanese. Baekhyun hadn’t thrown in snarky comments about Kai, which Sehun regarded as a grand improvement. Maybe some of Chanyeol’s cheeriness rubbed off on him.

Whatever it was, Sehun was thankful and it meant that he felt less guilty when he went home after visiting and stroked himself whilst pretending that it was Kai’s form covering him rather than his blanket and that Kai’s strong, elegant fingers were brushing across his rim instead of his own.

The day of the meeting arrived quickly. He slowly drank his hot tea, wrapped up in his coat, as he waited for Kai’s arrival. He was looking forward to work. Most of the highest ranking officers would be gone and a large majority of the soldiers too as escorts, and Kai promised to show him more of the premises during their lunch break. He wanted to explore the courtyard and the gardens around the city hall.

Knocks snapped him out of his reverie. He ran to the door and smiled at Kai. He looked more relaxed than he had in a long time. Instead of his usual olive military attire and leather boots, today he donned a cozy knit sweater, a thick wool coat, and a pair of cloth shoes like Sehun’s. The younger shut the door and the two walked out towards the waiting vehicle. They chatted quietly as they were driven through the streets. Sehun could not help noticing that the presence of patrolling soldiers had significantly decreased and that there were no sentries stationed at their posts.

He got to work once they were in Kai’s office and began chiseling out the general form of Mars’ spear and the shining sun that would join the shaft and the sharp sculpted head of the weapon. Kai settled down behind his desk and rifled through papers, jotting stuff down in a notebook as he had done before. Sehun looked outside towards the courtyard. It was a sunny day. The snow glowed brightly, hurting his eyes. He turned away.

~

“Hello,” a voice whispered by his ear. Sehun gave a jump and his arms flailed. The hand holding the chisel swung back and Sehun felt it catch on something. He whipped around, an apology on his lips.

“Drat,” Kai muttered. He plucked the sleeve of his jumper from the tip of Sehun’s chisel, pulling at the yarn that was beginning to unravel.

“Sorry,” he murmured, lightly mortified. He set the tool down pushed Kai’s hand away from the sleeve. The elder was yanking at the strings, causing the garment to further unravel. “Don’t do that,” Sehun scolded, before twisting the frayed ends into a tasteful knot.

“What do I do with this?” Kai held up the stray pieces of yarn he had pulled out.

Sehun poked the strands through the holes in Kai’s knit sweater and tied a bow around the torn sleeve. He looked at the connected yarn. “Our fates are now tied,” he grinned.

Kai’s smile told Sehun that the elder did not mind.

~

Once the plates from their lunch were cleared, the two settled back into their work. Sehun snuck peaks at Kai now and then, appreciating how much more calm and languid Kai looked in his casual clothes and now that the planning process for the meeting was completed.

Someone knocked on the door.

“Enter,” Kai said in Korean, before repeating his request in Japanese when no one came in. Soft laughs were heard behind the door and Kai raised an eyebrow at Sehun.

The door was then pushed open and Kitayama stepped in, looking behind him and whispering in hushed tones to the girl in the purple kimono, who was covering her mouth as she fought to stifle her tinkly giggles. She was pointing at the taisa’s greying temples. Kitayama gave an exasperated sigh before he nudged the girl away, although the fond way he stared after the oiran betrayed his true feelings.

Kai waited patiently for Kitayama, who realized that the occupants of the room had bore witness to what was a private moment. He was of superior rank, however, and didn’t look too bothered. He nodded at Sehun before striding to Kai’s desk. “Chusa,” Kitayama greeted. Sehun strained his ears to listen to the rest of their conversation but their quiet voices and the tapping of his chisel didn’t allow for eavesdropping and Sehun didn’t dare halt his actions for fear of suspicion.

He heard Kai sighing and Kitayama clucking at him. The taisa shot him a warning look before stalking out of the room.

The lieutenant heaved himself out of his chair and plodded over to Sehun. “I might be gone for a bit. A meeting.”

Sehun nodded, not unaccustomed to Kai leaving for meetings and more confident in being on his own now.

He spent a good amount of time sculpting the tip of Mars’ spear, deciding that he would sculpt the shaft later, and just finished, when the room suddenly shook.

His body was knocked forward. He fell against the statue’s chest. His hands flew outward and the chisel knocked the thin and sharp tip of the spear off. It fell with a clunk against the floor. He gasped. What would the chujo think? And the three taisa? Tiny bits of marble had fragmented off, scattering into particles on the carpet. It would be difficult to attach the piece back. He supposed that he could carve out a new tip using the unsculpted marble that was to be the shaft. He chewed his bottom lip and scrutinized the statue, wondering if they would find fault with a slightly shorter spear.

The room shook again and the chandelier tinkled a bit as it swayed precariously from where it hung on the ceiling. He covered his head and ran to the door and pulled it open, concerned and confused. He stepped out and heard yelling in the distance and frowned. He wondered if it was an earthquake but dismissed the thought. Such natural disasters were rare in Korea’s history. Some soldiers were rushing down the hall. Other kinds of disasters were not so rare and perhaps a bit too common, he thought, eyeing the soldiers with disdain.

Some men at the back of the group turned in his direction. The four soldiers headed to Kai’s office with purpose but stopped when they caught sight of Sehun and his flushed face, slightly red from the exertion of sculpting and his cotton shirt, which was turning fairly translucent due to sweat and how the shirt had slipped down one shoulder in his haste to get to the door, revealing smooth, milky flesh and chiselled clavicles.

He froze. His eyes widened and his pupils dilated with fear. Their eyes narrowed and glinted with depraved thirst. His pulse quickened.

Sehun lunged backward, his arms knocking against the door with a bang. He frantically slammed it behind him and clenched his hands on the doorknob and pressed himself against the cool painted wood, grinding and digging his heels into the carpeting, trying to keep the entrance to Kai’s office sealed with his body weight. The force with which it was shoved open threw him farther back into the room. The door hit the wall with a loud, reverberating slam and bounced back against the wall three more times.

He pulled himself off of the floor and scrambled back. His chest was heaving as he gasped for air but his lungs felt like they were not working. He coughed and fought to breathe. He could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears, a hammering rhythm that the soldiers seemed to march to as they entered the room and approached him. His head was swimming and his vision turned blurry and he realized that his sight was being invalidated by tears. He forced himself to move back but tripped and fell down. He closed his eyes, blinking away the saltiness that now began to trail down his cheeks. Footsteps drew nearer to where he lay on his back. He pulled himself into a sitting position and his fingers grappled the floor blindly until they found the chisel he had dropped earlier and wrapped themselves around the tool. He opened his eyes.

Four pairs of shiny black boots were the first thing he saw and then four pairs of legs clad in olive trousers and then four bodies, four pairs of arms holding rifles. And then his eyes rose higher still. Four pairs of glimmering eyes revealed the malicious intent within their souls. Wolfish, lecherous smirks adorned their eager faces. They squinted down at his form and their beady eyes raked along his body splayed on the floor. His gut swirled with disgust. Tightening his grip on the chisel, he swung it around just as one soldier crouched down.

He missed. The soldier hissed with rage and yanked Sehun up, seizing Sehun’s wrists in a crushing grip. Sehun screamed and jerked his leg up to kick the man, wrenching away from his hold. He fumbled around for his hammer and threw that at the soldiers but fell short of his target yet again.

They drew closer around him, cackling, amused by his efforts to fend them off. Sehun’s breaths came up quicker now, to the point where he was practically panting. He clenched his hands into fists, ready to fight them but they just sniggered and crowded even tighter around him.

They pounced. One soldier snatched his sleeve and pulled hard. Sehun stumbled forward into the soldier’s chest and the man took the opportunity to grope Sehun’s back and butt, dropping his rifle to use both hands to pull the boy flush against his body.

“No!” Sehun screamed. He snarled and raised his arms and beat the soldier’s back and kicked out at another one who was inching towards them. His arms were suddenly and painfully twisted behind his back. The man holding him thrust his hips into Sehun’s groin and he felt the hardness painfully stabbing him. _Kai, where are you?_ He began struggling more ferociously now and tried to smash his head against that of his assaulter but he ducked. He twisted and writhed and the soldier grabbing him pushed him away far enough for a crushing blow to be delivered to the boy’s stomach.

One man tore at Sehun’s clothes. He shrieked. “Kai!” he hollered. “Help! Anybody!”

Another soldier slapped Sehun and jammed his hand against the pale boy’s face. Fingers invaded the inside of his mouth and pulled at his lips until he thought his jaw was going to snap. A scream lodged in his throat, choking him. They ripped at the neckline of his shirt and yanked the garment down his body. The soldiers caught sight of the scars on Sehun’s chest.

They laughed. He was turned around so that his back was pressed against the body of the soldier holding him. The soldier’s erection dug into the soft globes of Sehun’s behind. Another pressed his hardness against the helpless boy’s hip. He heard a groan and he wanted to claw at his skin. He felt dirty. The new pinioned position put him on further display and he felt rough hands touch his bare chest, rub at his scars, tug on his nipples, and travel down his body to fondle his penis.

Tears flowed down the boy’s face. The harder he struggled, the tighter they clamped their hands around his arms and midriff, the more insistently and violently they violated his body, the more voraciously they humped his defenseless self. He hung his head. A scratchy face rubbed against his abdomen. Hands wrapped around his waist, squeezing. He heaved in a breath through the hand that covered half of his face to yell when, suddenly, the door banged open.

Sehun twisted himself around, trying to see who it was. He heard the distinctive clacking of geta as the newcomer walked towards him. The hands holding him loosened as the soldiers took notice of the oiran.

It was the girl in the purple kimono. She teetered into the room and shouted at the soldiers. Sehun couldn’t hear her over the hammering of his heart. She looked behind her and then tugged on the sleeve of her kimono, today a deep purple that was almost blue and decorated with white and red koi. Sehun shook his head frantically at her, urging her with his eyes to get away, to flee. She ignored him and flashed her teeth at the soldiers and one by one they drew away from Sehun and stalked towards her. His legs gave and collapsed on the floor, silent sobs wracking his body. He pulled his shirt up and clutched the collar tightly. The soldiers chuckled and murmured at the girl. Sehun could see her back as she peeled the kimono down her shoulders.

“Get away from her!” he yelled. His throat was already raw from screaming and now he could taste blood in his mouth. The soldiers seemed not to have understood him. He tried again in Japanese and one of the men came over and yanked the boy up.

“So desperate for a fuck, huh?” he leered. “Filthy bitch.” His hands went to his belt.

Sehun shook his head and raised his fist to punch the man but his hand was intercepted by the soldier. The oiran noticed what was happening and called out for the soldier grabbing Sehun but he did not go back to her.

“What is going on here?” a voice thundered. The three soldiers around the oiran froze as did the one beside Sehun. It was the one of the taisa Sehun had met the other day, the one with the moustache. The girl hurriedly rearranged her clothes and clacked out of the room.

Sehun heard another explosion in the distance and felt the room rock again. Gunshots sounded in the distance, and each one felt like a punch to his eardrum. The taisa yelled at the four soldiers who rushed to pick up their rifles from the floor but all Sehun could hear was shouting that came from down the hall and one voice in particular. It sounded like Kai.

His fingers slackened around his shirt and it slipped down slightly again. The taisa’s eyes widened as Sehun bared his shoulders to him and he shared a smirk with the soldiers in the room, who relaxed slightly now that they saw the taisa wasn’t too angry. Sehun wanted to throw up.

_Evil. They were all so evil. I hate them all._

Kai skidded into the room, looking frenzied and trying to pull away from a man in a physician’s coat who was yanking hard on the lieutenant’s arm and yelling. His hair was in wild disarray and his eyes were panicked and skittered agitatedly around the room, searching for Sehun.

Their eyes met. Sehun stared at Kai and saw the blood on his trousers and the patch of crimson staining of one of Kai’s cloth shoes that was beginning to expand. Kai took in Sehun’s wet, swollen eyes, the red handprint on his face, and his torn shirt. He twisted the ripped collar even tighter around his fingers, trying to cover up as much as possible. The four soldiers saluted Kai and Sehun looked away and ducked behind one of the soldiers. Kai wrenched his arm out of the medic’s grasp and ran, limping slightly, to the younger, tentatively gathering the boy into his arms.

Sehun wept, pressing his face into the elder’s shoulder. The wool of the lieutenant’s sweater scratched at his eyes, but it was only an indication that Kai was holding him, that Kai was there, that Kai was here to protect him. The strong arms around him tightened. Kai leaned his head against his. The taisa called for Kai but he ignored his superior. Sehun melted into embrace, momentarily forgetting all that had transpired, when another explosion shook the ground, throwing them both to the side.

The taisa snapped at Kai and this time, the lieutenant jumped a little. He pulled away from Sehun and went to fetch the boy’s coat and his own from the coat hanger, which had fallen over, wrapping both garments around the trembling sculptor before walking to the soldier closest to Sehun and punching him. He cried out with fear at first but his yell warped into a howl of fury, and put a hand to his split lip. Kai bellowed at him and turned his attention to the other soldiers. The taisa was staring at Kai, incredulous.

One of the soldiers marched to Sehun and dragged the boy towards the others. He saluted Kai before dropped Sehun’s arm. “Chusa,” the soldier said in Japanese, speaking loudly to be heard over the muffled shouts coming down the hall and slowly enough that Sehun could understand him. “We came to guard him as you ordered. But this slut was asking for it.”

Kai froze. Sehun’s face crumpled. The lieutenant’s face twisted harsly with anger and he opened his mouth but before he could get any words out, a boom sounded from another direction, in the courtyard. A resurgence of gunshots were heard in the meeting chamber down the hall and a new torrent of screams vandalized Sehun’s ears. The windows of Kai’s office shattered, knocked into the room by the force of an explosive. Kai shoved Sehun towards the ground and away from the glass and threw himself over the younger as gunshots were heard in the courtyard. One bullet flew into the room and hit the top of Mars’ spear, rendering the weapon even shorter now. A large chunk of marble was knocked off and slammed into ground.

Two of the soldiers aimed their rifles in the direction of the courtyard and two others down the hall. The din died down. It was silent except for a wet tapping sound. Sehun pushed Kai’s arms away from his face and saw some of the koi fish from the pond flopping desperately on the carpeting of the office. Their mouths opened and closed in silent screams and frantic gasps, producing a light popping noise. Sehun looked out the windows, or what was left of them and saw more fish on the snow outside. Some were already dead.

A shuffling noise caused all of the room’s occupants to twitch. Then, light, dragging footsteps scratching across stone were audible. The two soldiers turned to the hall whirled around and pointed their weapons at the window. The footsteps stopped.

A figure suddenly jumped into view. Sehun gasped. _Kyungsoo._ The soldiers were caught off guard and before they could pull the triggers of their rifles, Kyungsoo had already raised his pistol and delivered four fatal shots at the men’s heads. The taisa and the medic, who were also on the floor, scrambled away from Kyungsoo. The taisa’s hand snuck to his holster while the medic began shaking and raised his arms in surrender. The sniper rolled his eyes and swiftly and easily shot both men in the chest.

Kyungsoo turned his attention to Kai and Sehun and took a step towards the two. Kai rolled over Sehun and sat in front of the younger, shielding him from Kyungsoo, looking challengingly at the doe eyes glowering back at him.

“Hi Sehun,” Kyungsoo greeted calmly. “Pity Baek wouldn’t bring you over more often. We had to ditch the original plans but we made new ones. I think I prefer this. Barely any guards outside, no soldiers in the streets… ” More gunshots rang out from the meeting chamber and a voice that sounded like Baekhyun called for Kyungsoo and the sniper tore off, stopping by the door to look again at Sehun. “I missed you, Hunnie. Baek says hi. Don’t be a stranger.” He sent a scathing look at Kai and tapped his gun against his leg threateningly before bolting.

Kai turned his eyes to Sehun, who looked shell-shocked. He shook Sehun’s shoulders. The younger hiccuped and shifted slightly, his hands brushing against Kai’s thighs, before wiping furiously at the tears on his face. He smelled the tang of copper and stared at his hands which were coated red with Kai’s blood. Kai hissed as he stretched out his feet.

“K-Kai…” Sehun whispered. “You’re hurt… It’s all my fault… why did I—I’m so sorry, I—”

Kai hushed him and smiled but it looked strained and very forced. “I’m fine, Sehun. The bullets only grazed me. It’s _not_ your fault. Is the Byun boy here? Are you—” He broke down and put his face in his hands. “I-I am so… I promised to protect you—”

Sehun shifted forward to inspect the wounds but felt a sudden tug on his coat sleeve. It was the taisa. He was not quite dead yet. Sehun screamed as the man gurgled and yanked harder on his sleeve, causing his coat to slide down his shoulder, taking his torn shirt with it, exposing his skin to the cold room. Goosebumps erupted across his skin. He saw the dead fish, the brown spots on the ground as blood leached into the green carpeting, the medic who had hacked a spray of red on the walls, the droplets of blood that stood out starkly against the whiteness of Apollo’s marble body, and the four soldiers, whose faces were angled towards him. Violating him with their dead stares just as they had violated him when they were alive mere minutes ago. He wondered if their bodies would still be warm.

“Sehun,” Kai called.

The taisa rolled over, dead. Sehun wrestled his sleeve out of the moustached man’s hand and shakily stood up. Kai’s coat, which was wrapped around his waist, dropped to the ground.

Then he ran.

 

~

Thanks for reading! <3

 


	15. Safe

His vision tunnelled as he sprinted out of Kai’s office. He had just taken the turn into the hall that led to the lobby when he crashed into someone. He shoved the person away before taking off again.

“Sehun!” 

He stumbled and whirled around. “Baekhyun.” His mind blanked, momentarily forgetting the recent past. He fidgeted. He wanted to leave but he also wanted answers. He couldn’t move, his limbs were locked in quiet anger. His fingers curled slowly, his hands clenched into fists. 

His hyung walked towards him, a worried frown on his face. He lightly touched Sehun’s cheek. “What happened?”

Sehun wrapped his coat tighter around himself. 

“Where are you bleeding? I don’t see a wound.”

“What?” He shuddered. 

More footsteps were heard. “Kyungsoo,” Baekhyun said, looking past Sehun’s shoulder. 

The sniper joined them and smiled in greeting. He was polishing his gun. 

Sehun could smell cordite and feel the heat radiating from the weapon and looked away, his blood simmering. They both shuffled closer to Sehun, flanking him. 

“Did you hurt Sehun?” Baekhyun demanded, looking at Kyungsoo and pointing to the streaks of red on Sehun’s face. 

“What? No! All the bullets were accounted for.” Kyungsoo paused. “I saw Sehun’s officer. He was bleeding. It might be his.” 

Kyungsoo’s blasé attitude was the tipping point. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snarled at his hyungs. They looked surprised by his outburst. “Why would you do something like this? You’re both mad!”

Baekhyun narrowed his eyes. “What,” he asked flatly, “are you talking about?”

“You know what the fuck I’m talking about!” The swear word felt awkward, foreign on his tongue but he didn’t care. “You said you wouldn’t bomb the place anymore!” 

“I never said I wouldn’t bomb the place, I said we found another thing we could use our explosives on.”

“Yeah, you said you were going to meddle with transport routes. This building is  _ not _ a transport route!” Sehun’s voice rose in pitch and loudness until he was screaming. His body shook with rage. 

“Not all of the explosives are to be used on that mission. We stole too many. We had to find some use for them,” Kyungsoo said. “So we set some off here.” 

“We had to do this,” the other added. “Calm down, Sehun. The important thing is that none of us are hurt. Why are you so angry?”

“All the high-ranking officers are gone! And don’t you dare tell me that this is some strategic advance for the Resistance. Don’t give me that bullshit about needing to give the people something to start the year off right. Do you know how their year is going to start off now? Being rounded up the Japanese to face a firing squad because of YOUR RECKLESSNESS!” 

“That’s not going to happen,” Baekhyun stressed. “We crashed the meeting but all the officers attending were low rank. They’re not worth executing citizens for. The highest ranking ones were probably your officer and I spotted a taisa but they both fled the chamber so I couldn’t kill them. I managed to squeeze off a few shots but my aim isn’t as good as Kyungsoo’s.” 

Sehun stepped back. 

“The taisa’s dead,” Kyungsoo interjected. Baekhyun nodded approvingly. 

Sehun gritted his teeth. “They’ve shot our people for lesser crimes, hyung.”

Baekhyun shook his head. “We weren’t able to kill that many anyway. There were panels on the walls that marked secret passageways. They snuck into those. Spineless cowards. Most of the people we’ve managed to hit were builbae.”

“You murdered  _ Koreans? _ ” Sehun hissed. His head throbbed with anger and disbelief. 

Baekhyun continued on as if he hadn’t heard Sehun’s comment. “I tossed some drawings that we made advertising the Resistance in Gwangju and dropped some train ticket stubs. As far as the Japanese are concerned, the perpetrators of this… occurrence are from Gwangju.” 

“What about  _ you, _ huh?” Sehun tested. “I’m sure they saw you. Most officers know who you are because of your father.” He ignored Baekhyun’s glower and plowed on. “They know where you live. Better prepare for soldiers to ransack your apartment.”

“There was too much smoke and dust in the air. Plus I had to shoot from a concealed location because they started firing on me.”

“People will still get killed. They’ll start hunting people down in Gwangju like they hunted down my family.”

Baekhyun looked sympathetic for a moment before he said, “We all have to make sacrifices. We’re heroes, Sehun.”

Kyungsoo turned to Baekhyun. “How are Junmyeon and Jongdae?”

“They’re in on this too? Why would you leave me out of the loop?” Sehun growled. “What happened to them?”

“They were shot at but their injuries aren’t severe. Superficial wounds,” Baekhyun answered, avoiding the second question. “I told them to leave. We should leave soon too. The officers who escaped probably already called reinforcements from other bases around town.”

Weak footsteps came from behind them. Kyungsoo pointed his gun in the direction of the noise. A tanned hand clasped the wall as the injured body it was attached to rounded the corner. Kai. Sehun’s shoulders slumped in relief. The waves of anger shaking his form dissipated, and rolled back in on itself, manifesting instead into swells of worry and guilt. He bit his lip to keep himself from crying out. He felt his body surge towards Kai but Kyungsoo’s hands gripped his arms and he was held back. “Lower your gun, hyung,” Sehun pleaded. Kyungsoo did so hesitantly once he noticed the utter devastation on the younger’s face but he didn’t loosen his grip. 

Baekhyun was not as sympathetic. A smirk blossomed slowly on his face. “Look what we have here,” he crooned. He cornered Kai, who slumped down against the wall and began panting heavily. “Kyungsoo, I thought you said you saw him. Why didn’t you take him out?” 

“He was lying on top of Sehun. I wasn’t sure if I could get a clear shot without injuring him.” 

The Byun son raised his eyebrows but turned back to Kai. “We’ll he’s not lying on anyone now.” He looked down at the bloodstains on Kai’s trousers and left shoe. “I suppose I should finish him off. I don’t get opportunities like this very often.” He plucked his gun out from his waistband.

“NO!” Sehun yelled, struggling in Kyungsoo’s grasp. The sniper looked shocked. 

Baekhyun froze. He whirled around. “See Sehun, this is why we had to conceal certain matters from you. Why are you so sympathetic when it comes to the Japs? You used to be so brave.”

“B-brave,” Kai chuckled, coughing slightly.

Sehun tore himself away from Kyungsoo and rushed to Kai. “Put your gun away, Baekhyun.” His voice was cold. Kai exhaled shakily, and Sehun looked mournfully at his hyungs. “Please don’t hurt him. If you ever… respected me or… whatever, d-don’t hurt him. Please.” They looked squeamish and a bit horrified but eventually nodded. Relieved, Sehun knelt down by Kai. His face looked bloodless. Sehun brushed Kai’s hair out of his eyes gently and the officer’s eyelids fluttered shut for a moment.

“Kai…” he whispered. He snaked his hand up his coat sleeves and tore off the sleeves of his shirt. He wrapped it around Kai’s thigh, making a tourniquet, fingers trembling as he tied the knot. 

The lieutenant sent him a small smile. “It’s fine, Sehun. The bullets only grazed me,” he reminded the younger. “Medical personnel will be here soon.” 

“Hey, his Korean isn’t bad,” Kyungsoo remarked. 

Baekhyun rolled his eyes. “How else would he and Sehun communicate?”

Sehun stood up shakily and pulled at his hair. His coat slid open, revealing his tattered shirt. Baekhyun and Kyungsoo gaped at him. Sehun saw their eyes shifting from him to Kai, saw their jaws tightening in rage and lifted his chin. “It wasn’t him. I-it was some others.”

“Same thing,” Baekhyun muttered. “They’re all the same. They’re all evil.”

Sehun recoiled as he remembered how he thought the same thing. He looked at Kai’s trembling form. He shook his head wildly, crazily. “That’s not true. Not all of them are evil. Some are—” His voice broke at the end and he couldn’t continue.

Kai shook his head. He looked so defeated. “He’s right.” He looked up. “It’s my fault you got attacked, Sehun. Some of the other offices housed other officers. The taisa sent soldiers to guard them. I should have stopped them. There was a chance that they would have entered my office, thinking that you needed protection. But I believed…  _ hoped— _ ” He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth in pain before taking a deep breath to continue. “I thought that they would know better. How wrong I was. I should have stopped them. They must have seen you and thought—”

“You disgusting excuse of a human being.” Baekhyun hissed venomously, cutting Kai off. “You thought he was asking for it?” 

A shudder rocked Sehun’s body as he remembered the soldier’s words from earlier and the words of another soldier, from that night in Seoul. Bile rose in his throat. He needed to leave. He didn’t know where he would go once he made it outside but he just needed to get out of here. 

The last thing he heard as he tore down the hall and into the lobby was Kai’s voice, calling out to him. He pushed the heavy doors and stumbled outside and began to run. He wanted to go back and make sure that Kai was okay, that Baekhyun and Kyungsoo weren’t hurting him but he could not stop running. He didn’t know where he was going but let his feet decide and focused on the feeling of the soft snow on hard pavement underneath his soles to distract him from his thoughts. He could see in the distance trucks carrying soldiers and ambulances. He thought about turning back to warn his hyungs to leave or to check if they were still there but his feet would not stop. 

The streets were a blur as were the people who stopped to watch and point. He didn’t know how long he ran and paid no heed to where he was going. He reached an abandoned residential district. His feet sunk deep into unswept snow. It reached above his ankles. He tripped over uneven ground and fell. He hissed as the iciness mercilessly pierced his bare hands. He pushed himself up and smacked the snow off of his clothes. His toes curled from the cold and began to numb. He looked around. 

He was in front of his childhood home. He hadn’t seen it in daylight in years. The last time he did, it was after Luhan was fired from the two restaurants he worked at when the owners learned that he was Chinese. Luhan only had one other job as a cashier at a bookstore, and that was not enough to support the both of them. 

By then Sehun was feeling stronger and was not scared of leaving their room at the hostel anymore. So he hesitantly brought Luhan to his old house, hopeful that they could chance upon some old valuables that they could sell. They stumbled upon his mother’s jewelry chest and family heirlooms in a hole in the ground in the cellar along with pillowcases stuffed with cash. He had immediately insisted that they move out of the hostel, yes he would also miss the landlady who they both had become quite fond of and, but they both agreed that it was too cramped for the both of them. He had purchased an apartment for the two of them, which was now his home. Luhan had put up a terrible fit at having to take Sehun’s money, but Sehun was able to placate the elder. 

The extra money gave Luhan some free time and he used it to pore over the textbooks he should’ve been reading had he continued with his medical studies and to teach supplement his knowledge of Chinese. Sehun had also started sculpting then, starting on small pieces of marble and then progressing to create works that were bigger than him. 

He walked towards the door of the house. It was a hanok, a traditional Korean home with wooden beams and weathered stone bricks. It was in a sorrowful state of neglect but traces of its previous elegance were still evident, if Sehun looked closely. The giwa that made up the tiled roof was of the best quality and gleamed under the sun. He stood on tippy toes, searching for the gilded tiles that once decorated the edge of the roof, by the cheoma, which were the gracefully curved eaves. They were no longer there. There were only a few houses nearby and the giwa on those roofs were gone too. 

He frowned. He couldn’t remember if they were there the last time visited. Where did they go? Who would take them? The gold tiles consisted of only a very thin sheet of gold on a clay giwa and were of little monetary value. Perhaps someone desperate. Life was hard these days. 

He entered the house and smiled sadly. By June of 1938, after nearly three years of living together in that apartment, there was simply not enough room for the two residents and Sehun’s sculptures. Luhan offered to move out despite Sehun’s protests. Luhan had gotten a new job, a secretarial post at a hospital, and claimed that, with the new post and his work as a cashier, he was able to support himself and could be free of the guilt of taking Sehun’s money. 

The only times he could meet up with Luhan was during weekend evenings, when they would both come here before heading out to scatter the posters. The oiled paper crackled under his weight. He shivered. The house had been well-insulated but the windows were broken and there gaps in the walls where stones had been knocked out, letting the frosty cold inside. There was a crater in the floor from when soldiers had thrown a bomb in his home. Luhan’s matches and candle were still on the table in the foyer. He lit the candle and brought it close to his face, trying to warm up. 

The house was shaped like a rather long rectangle. He made his way to the end of the house on the opposite of the entrance. He stared at the door that led to the master bedroom before turning the other way and going a bit down the hall to his childhood bedroom. His hand froze as he reached for the doorknob. He hadn’t been in this part of the house in more than ten years. 

He pushed the door open slowly. He stepped into the room and pressed his back on the door to shut it. The yellow curtains, which had been bleached white by the sun, were shut as he had left them. Dust had settled everywhere and some bits danced in front of his eyes, unperturbed by his entry. 

The pictures he drew at school were still on the walls although they were faded now. His closet was open and clothes were strewn about the floor, a reminder of how quickly he had to pack and flee. He went over to his bed. It was situated by the window and the lack of damage done to the walls in his room and the intact window meant that the sheets and blanket were warmed from the sun. He lay down and began to weep.

Was he a traitor now? He couldn’t stomach the things the Resistance pulled off and had bailed on them. All he wanted to do was to be brave.

_ There was a shrill scream and a deafening crash. He heard someone say, “Shhhhh…” _

_ He went still for a moment, frozen both by the suddenness of the noise and a terrible sense of foreboding that was so overwhelming it seemed to almost smother him. He moved to his parents’ bedroom. The blood pounded in his head so hard that he swore his vision seemed to be pulsating. The apartment was eerily quiet now.  _

_ His hand shook as he grasped the door knob. The metal felt icy against his fiery skin. He twisted and pushed the door open. _

_ He screamed. _

_ His father was on his knees, forced down by two soldiers, their rifles pressed into his back. Parts of his face were red and swollen and his clothes were dishevelled as if he’d been in a fight. His mother had a gun to her temple and her neck was encased in the arm of a soldier. His parents looked at him, worry and fear for his safety distorting their features. _

_ One of the men delivered a kick to his father’s back, ordering Sehun to be quiet. His mother started shrieking and flailing in the soldier’s grip.  _

_ “Leave them alone! You can take me, take me, do whatever you want but please! Let my wife and my son go!” his father cried hoarsely. The men holding him cackled.  _

_ Sehun stood there, paralyzed until a fourth soldier grabbed him. He screamed, twisting to get free. Large hands seized his shoulders. The fingers jabbing into his skin felt like blades. He thrashed wildly, trying to escape the man’s grip, but he was trapped. Sehun screamed until he could taste blood, still trying to wrestle his way out. _

_ “Let my parents go!” he tried to yell, when the soldier holding him drove his knee into Sehun’s stomach. The boy bent over, wheezing. _

_ Then the first shot was fired. _

_ His mother fell to the floor instantly, blood blooming behind her head. Her eyes were wide open and a look of fear was etched permanently on her delicate features. Sehun stared. He couldn’t register what happened and only realized that his mother was dead when his father started howling.  _

_ Another shot shut him up. _

_ And then there was only him and the four soldiers. _

_ They advanced on him, cooing over his pale, trembling form, and dragged him into the living room, not wanting to get blood on their uniforms. He tried to break free to no avail. They pushed him to the floor. They undressed him and he was too shocked to resist. It was only when one man went to pry his legs apart that he realized what they were going to do and started to struggle violently.  _

_ He was no match for them. They took turns. His weak screams became whimpers and pleads for help. His mother had taken out his birthday cake and set it on the table. Thirteen candles lay on the side along with a box of matches.  _

“M-mom, dad…” he cried. “I’m so sorry.”

Why was he such a coward? Why couldn’t he fight the soldiers off? What scared him more was that he had felt remorse after the soldiers fell dead to the floor. 

They weren’t all evil as he had previously thought and as Baekhyun and the others kept insisting. Kai would never molest him like that. He had initially found it difficult to separate Kai from the military. But he was different from them. And if he was capable of kindness, perhaps others were as well. What was he to do now? He did not think he could kill a soldier, even those who had attacked him today. 

Did that make him weak? He had thought of his hyungs as heroes but today did think that their actions deserved praise. 

He was drained and snuggled into the blanket. He closed his eyes. He was safe here. The warmth of the sun and the coziness of his childhood bed lulled him to sleep, although the wetness on his cheeks never dried. 

~

When he woke, it was evening. He nuzzled into the dusty pillows sleepily before he remembered what happened. He pulled his coat tighter around him. The room was chilly now and he wanted to go home. 

There was the sound of footsteps in the foyer and then a crash. He jumped and huddled into the blanket, trembling with fear. 

Was nowhere safe?

“Sehun?” 

His ears perked up and he got out of the bed. “K-Kai?”

The door opened slowly and Kai peeked his head in the door. He carried an oil lamp with him and carefully set it on the floor before his eyes found Sehun, standing in the middle of the room. 

“Sehun,” he whispered before rushing forth and almost crushing the younger in an embrace. 

He let himself be wrapped in Kai’s arms. His own arms snaked around the elder’s waist. He was safe.

“You’re safe now,” Kai said, voice muffled against Sehun’s shoulders.

Yes, he was safe here. He squeezed Kai tighter until he realized that Kai was trembling.

“Kai? Are you okay?”

“I-I’m so sorry, Sehun.” In the dim lighting, Sehun saw that Kai’s eyes had grown liquid. The tracks of tears shone in the lamplight. 

“Why?” he murmured.

“I was supposed to protect you. Sehun, I promised to protect you and I—”

Sehun shut him up with a kiss.

 

~

AHH OMG, I’m so, so sorry for taking so long to update. 

I was a bit busy with school and university applications. I kinda hit a bit of a crisis while doing the latter and was kinda rethinking what I want to do. Ahhh.

Again, so sorry for not updating in like half a year. I was a bit iffy about some of the earlier bits. I posted the first chapter without really having a general plotline and wrote Galatea kinda on a whim during IB exams LOL but this work has become really precious to me. I couldn’t muster up the motivation to finish this chapter when I was kinda unsatisfied about some parts. 

I made some edits to some of the earlier chapters but not to a great extent. I think that should only be a problem if you already started reading before this chapter was posted. I also added more explanatory notes at the end of chapters to clarify things and give some context. If you wanna take another look, feel free to do so and tell me what you think. <3

Thanks for your support and patience. Happy Chinese and Lunar New Year! I’m late by like two weeks but please accept my greetings. 

Thanks for reading! ILY you all. <3

 


	16. Pure

They devoured each other, rendered breathless by the passion of their kiss, by the events of the day, and by a burning sense of relief that the other was okay and that they were together again. Eventually Kai gently pushed him away and gripped his face with both hands.

“Sehun,” Kai whispered, his breath ragged. “I’m so sorry.”

Sehun played with the soft hair on the nape of Kai’s neck, bottom lip trembling. “No, Kai, you were… you saved me. Don’t be sorry about anything.”

“I was supposed to protect you.” Kai mumbled before seeking Sehun’s lips again, arms wrapping around him tighter, trying desperately to protect the younger from a blow that had already struck him.

Sehun stumbled back a bit, caught off balance, and they both toppled on to the bed. He could feel the soft wetness of the tears on Kai’s cheeks, could taste the slightly bitter saltiness on his tongue, and started weeping himself. He buried his face in Kai’s shoulder.

Kai stroked Sehun’s hair, murmuring tender words of reassurance. He wrapped them both in the blanket.

“Why am I such a coward?” Sehun cried.

Kai froze before peeling Sehun off of him. “What do you mean?” he asked, hushed.

“Why am I still so scared?” he slurred through his sobs. “After all these years… I’m still so scared of them. I’m still a coward.” His body shook as a fresh wave of tears hit him and he smashed his face down into the blanket

Kai hissed, and gritted his teeth.

“W-what’s wrong?” Sehun sniffled. He saw that he had nudged his head against Kai’s injured foot and let out a cry. “I hurt you, I’m so—”

Kai grabbed him by the shoulders. “You’re not a coward. Sehun, listen to me. You’re not—what’re you doing?”

Sehun ran to fetch the oil lamp and held it close to Kai’s foot. It was bandaged, although minute droplets of blood had stained the white linen.

“A doctor bandaged me up, I’m fine. Sehun, get in the blanket. It’s too cold.”

Sehun didn’t listen and merely bowed his head. “It’s my fault you were injured. We were planning to bomb the city hall during that big meeting with all the high-ranking officers and gun down everyone who attended the meeting.”

Kai stilled.

“I… I was going to convince you to skip that meeting or find some way to warn you beforehand. I didn’t want you to get hurt,” Sehun babbled, noticing the expression on Kai’s face. He twisted his hands anxiously, fingers fluttering nervously. A fresh wave of hot tears blurred his vision. “Kai, I—”

“But the meeting was moved to Seoul.”

The tears spilled over. Sehun wanted to pin the blame on the other four. Bombing the city hall had been their idea, they were the ones who convinced him that it was a good idea, they were the ones who indoctrinated him with the belief that violence would solve all their problems. But he was just as complicit. He had his suspicions that the others would somehow find a way to use the explosives in the way they’d intended for them to be used. He shook his head and pressed the blanket against his face to dry some of the tears.

Kai dug a handkerchief out of his pocket and offered it to Sehun. He declined.

“We planned the attack before I found out that the meeting was moved. I… we… there were plans to use the explosives on transport routes or something. I think I knew all along that they would bomb the place regardless. But I… I couldn’t, I couldn’t find it in me to stop them. I’m such a coward, I can’t—” His voice broke at the end and he wept.

Fingers gently swiped at his tears before they were dabbed away. Kai squeezed the handkerchief in his hand as he looked mournfully at the younger. “Sehun,” he said gently.

Sehun shook shook his head wildly. His breath was coming out in rasps now, air swallowed by his sobs. “It’s my fault you got injured. You could’ve been killed. I was going to leave with you if I had known they were going to attack the building.” He choked and Kai thumped on his back and attempted to pull him on the bed. Sehun resisted. “I didn’t want to be a traitor, Kai, I… just, I just wanted to feel brave.” He let out a shuddering breath. His nose was clogged and he breathed heavily through his mouth for a few seconds, brushing the tears savagely off of his face.

“You don’t need to feel brave, Sehun,” Kai murmured. “You _are_ brave.”

“I’m not,” Sehun wailed, eyes squeezing together as new sobs racked his body. “Even though… even though the official Resistance caused trouble—”

Kai snorted lightly. “Understatement.”

“—I always secretly admired them. A-at least they fight back against the Resistance. All I used to do was make posters urging people to fight. I couldn’t fight myself. I couldn’t even listen on people at the city hall to provide intelligence because I didn’t want to go near any of the Japanese. I couldn’t do anything. The soldiers still scared me a-and, and I… when I was with the Resistance, I felt like I was finally doing something to fight back. I felt brave, Kai.” He shook his head in despair. His chin tucked on his chest as he whispered, “I just wanted to be brave.”

_“DAD!” he shrieked as his father fell before his eyes. His body was petrified in a state of shock. He tried closing his eyes, tried blinking but found that he couldn’t. “Mom…” he whimpered, looking at his mother’s lifeless form. The two soldiers examined their uniforms for blood. Sehun twitched. The man holding him tightened his grip. He started screaming for his parents, thrashly almost madly._

_The other three soldiers stepped towards him and peered at his face. One smiled slowly as he ran his eyes down Sehun’s struggling body._

_“Stop it!” he cried as the soldier holding him squeezed his behind. His body was numb, he couldn’t feel anything, but something about the touch felt wrong. He shivered and tried to squirm away._

_One of the soldiers pointed to him and said something, gesturing to the red on the floor. He was carried to the living room. He pounded his fists against the soldier’s arms and flailed, not wanting to leave his parents. The man let him stand and he sprinted towards his parents’ bedroom, screaming. They caught him quickly and slapped him hard across the face. His head whipped violently to the side. He tasted blood. They grabbed him and shoved him on his knees and pushed him on his back. His head hit the floor with a painful thud but he couldn’t feel it. He couldn’t feel anything._

_He cautiously stuck out the tip of his tongue and licked his lips. They were split and blood was running down his cheeks on to his earlobes. He remembered the way thick scarlet liquid shot out of the other side of his father’s skull and how a vivid red had pooled beneath his mother’s head. He started shaking. Hot tears started gushing out of his eyes. They mixed with the blood on his face and collected in his ears._

_The four men stood over him, discussing something. He stared at the ceiling, still in shock. He barely reacted when one man squatted down and began unbuttoning Sehun’s shirt. They nudged the cloth off his arms before pulling the fabric out from under his back. His trousers came off next, one soldier pulled down the zipper and another pulled them down his legs. They yanked his shoes off so the pants could come off completely. They threw the shoes. One landed on a sofa, another hit the edge of the dining table and fell to the floor._

_One man traced the hem of the boy’s underwear before bringing his nose to Sehun’s groin and inhaling. He closed his eyes and laughed delightedly. They dragged the cotton off of him. He lay still, body still quivering. His nose was stuffy and he opened his mouth to breathe. He feet became very sweaty all of a sudden and he curled his toes, hoping that his socks would wick off some of the moisture._

_The soldier who had held him grappled his soft thighs and squeezed the flesh before running his hands down the length of his legs. He squeezed his ankles before forcing them apart._

_Sehun felt cold air ghost over his nether regions. He tried to close his legs but found that he couldn’t. He felt exposed and powerless. He opened his mouth to yell but a hand clapped harshly over it. A soldier rummaged in the kitchen before emerging with a small clay jar of sesame oil. He whimpered and tried to wiggle away as the soldier dropped his pants and underwear and slathered his erect length in oil. The aromatic, nutty smell permeated Sehun’s nose._

_He yelled and struggled more frantically. His back scratched and chafed against the floor. He couldn’t move. He bawled for help and threw punches into the air. A pair of hands held down his shoulders, a pair grabbed his wrists in a bruising grip, another ensured that his legs remained spread, and yet another pair crushed his hips as its owner plunged in without mercy._

_Sehun screamed. His head lifted and he caught a glimpse of the soldier pushing the rest of his shaft into his defenseless, unwilling body before it crashed on the floor again. He regained sensation again. He felt like he was being torn apart, like his insides were being ravaged. He squeezed himself around the intruder, trying to push the man’s penis out, but that only made the pain worse. His head throbbed. The soldier groaned and shoved himself in to the hilt, grabbing Sehun’s thighs to pull his legs even farther apart. His comrades cheered him on._

_The soldier pulled out completely. Sehun gasped and tried to clench himself shut. The man poured more oil on his hardness before pushing himself in again. Sehun wailed and struggled, thrashing his head side to side._

_“NO!” he screamed. A coppery tang engulfed his tongue. His throat felt raw and every cry stung like hell. But he didn’t give up hope. “NO! Someone! Help!”_

_“Hurry up,” one of the soldier said in Japanese._

_Sehun turned swollen, watery eyes to the man. “Please help me,” he begged in his best Japanese. His voice was hoarse now “Please let me go, sir.”_

_The man between his legs increased his pace. Sehun cried out. Each thrust was another stab of pain into his body. His eyes widened in horror as he felt a warm liquid taint his insides. The soldier pulled out with a satisfied sigh and a lewd plop. The man holding his wrists switched places with his rapist and Sehun screwed his eyes shut for the torture to continue._

_The tip of the man’s cock nudged his ruined rim. “No, please,” he pleaded, struggling weakly, kicking his immobilized legs._

_“I bet you’re enjoying this,” the man sniggered and he plowed into the boy. “Being fucked open by your parents’ killers.”_

_Sehun felt like the breath was punched out of his lungs. A fresh wave of tears flooded his eyes._

_The soldier pinning down his shoulders said something too quickly for Sehun to comprehend. Seeing that Sehun’s expression did not change, he spoke again slowly. “Your parents must be so ashamed of you.”_

_“You just stood there as we killed them,” another added, squeezing his ankles hard and making Sehun’s legs move as though he were riding a bicycle. “Coward.”_

_Sobs choked out of his throat. His body became pliant and he croaked out a new request. “Please kill me.”_

“Sehun?” Kai was shaking him gently. “Sehun, what’s wrong?”

“I just wanted to be brave,” he said again. He started shaking his head. “But I’m not. And now you’re hurt, all because of me and they’re going to shoot people, Kai, they’re going to shoot people because bombs were set off and—”

“Listen Sehun,” Kai gritted out, hands clasping Sehun’s face. “You are brave. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”

Sehun let out a breath. Tears trailed down his cheeks.

“A little less than two years ago,” Kai began, “when I was posted to Busan, I felt like a wreck. I didn’t want to be here because I had done some… things. Kitayama took me out to dinner. I didn’t want to go. He wasn’t a chusa back then, he was a shosha, a major. But he was still of higher rank so I had to listen. I’m eternally grateful for Kitayama for dragging me to dinner. That night as I was leaving the restaurant, I saw you.”

“W-what?”

“The first of June, 1939. You were sneaking around some of the buildings and putting up posters and throwing small drawings around. I looked at the posters but couldn’t study them in full detail. I was so moved by your courage, Sehun. The next day, I was assigned to oversee the removal of your posters. I got to have a proper look at them.”

“Oh…”

“Wait yeah, I’m sorry,” Kai said, scratching his neck. “For removing your posters. But um, the artwork was beautiful. And the messages were so _vivid_ and inspiring. I ate out every night that month in the same restaurant, hoping to see you again.”

“D-did you?”

“Only twice.” Kai smiled. “But it was enough. You… were a light in the dark for me. You held on to your beliefs and didn’t fall into the waves that were crashing into you, even though everyone else around you was giving in. You couldn’t control the waves, they were a force beyond your control. And it takes guts and courage to realize that. That didn’t mean you gave up, though. You stared off into the distance, like Friedrich’s Rückenfigur, stared off into a future where your people could live and prosper in peace.”

A deep shudder ran through Sehun’s body and he curled up, weeping harder now. Kai pulled him on the bed and wrapped his arms around the younger. His head lolled against Kai’s shoulder.

“Like the Rückenfigur who has one foot in front of the other and his walking stick poised for action—he wandered far with them, far enough to see the waves and the cliffs and trees—you believed in the power of your art.” Kai paused a moment. “No matter how many posters of yours we ripped down, new ones would still appear all over town. You risked your life to put them up. I eventually found out who you were. I saw you by one of the temples. The moment I had your address, I went to your apartment.”

Sehun cracked a smile in spite of the tears. It hadn’t been that long ago but so much had happened in the span of six months. The memory was still fresh on his mind however, as vivid as if he had just met Kai yesterday.

“I’m sorry for trespassing but I needed to know you. You were so brave, Sehun.”

He opened his mouth to protest but Kai shushed him.

“Bravery isn’t about grand and sacrificial actions. Sometimes bravery is just about surviving. It’s about using your pain to create something beautiful. It’s about believing that something precious to you—your art—can change the way people think. And it did. It changed the way I thought. You have had a positive impact not only on me, Sehun, but on a lot of people I’m sure. Telling people to cherish their history and culture despite a regime grounded on erasing those two things is heroic and honourable.”

Sehun’s sobs turned into groans and he clung to Kai as his body shook. Kai held him and smoothed his hair and patted his back until Sehun choked out his last cry and the tremors ceased.

“You emerged stronger from the ashes of the pain and torment in your life. You make posters, create beautiful statues, and keep your will to live. That’s bravery.” Kai kissed his forehead. “You’re not a coward for not wanting to join in with the Byun boy and his comrades. It’s brave to not give in to a desire to be violent because you’re aware of the repercussions. What will blind killing do? It will achieve nothing. Holding on to your history and culture is more important. You should never forget who you are.”

Kai’s voice became bitter at the end and Sehun wanted to ask about it but he suddenly felt very exhausted. He leaned into the hug. He sighed, a heavy weight gone from his shoulders.

“You’re brave because you protested against the Byun boy’s plans. You’re brave for standing up for what you believe in, Sehun. Your art is important. You’re doing the best you can and in a situation like this, that’s more than enough. It’s easy to be reckless and to lash out and to be brash. What you’re doing will have a more positive impact.”

Sehun chuckled mirthlessly. “You’re so nice, Kai.”

“I know,” he responded flippantly before growing serious again. “Why wouldn’t I be nice? You stood up for me, you know.”

“I used to think you were evil. I was ashamed and scared of being seen with you because I didn’t want to be labelled a traitor. I… you invaded us. But you’re so kind and honourable and I felt so conflicted. I used to think all soldiers were evil. But then I met you. How could you be evil?”

“Sehun—”

“Are there other soldiers like you? I… the soldiers today—”

“They were not good men,” Kai interrupted.

“I felt like I betrayed my parents by… liking you and—because of what you are but you’re not just a soldier. You’re not the Japanese government. You’re more than just the military. You’re Kai. You’re a good person.”

“I’m not a good person,” Kai confessed quietly. “But seeing your faith in humanity and in me makes me believe that redemption may exist after all. That maybe…”

Sehun pulled away slightly to look at Kai. His coat fell off slightly. Cold air hit his exposed skin through the torn shirt. The events of the afternoon flared up again in his memory and he started trembling again.

_“Please kill me.”_

_“We all have to get our turns,” one man said._

_When the last soldier inserted himself, Sehun felt a tingle in his rear as the man brushed against his prostate. He unconsciously bucked his hips up and gasped. The man chuckled and rammed into him harder, hammering in and out without mercy. Slowly, pleasure overtook the pain. Sehun moaned and he clenched hard around the intruder as he came with a cry._

_“Slut,” the man breathed as his thrusts became more sloppy. He ejaculated with a groan and redressed himself quickly. “Such a good whore.”_

_Sehun felt dirty, he wanted to scratch his skin off, wanted to scrub away at all the places where they touched him. Every nerve in his lower body yelled in desperation and pain. He lay still, it hurt too much to move._

_“Bet you enjoyed that,” a soldier said as he sauntered to the kitchen. “Slut.” He grabbed a knife and knelt over Sehun. He spread his hand on the soft skin of Sehun’s chest and stared at the expanse of pale flesh before him with deliberation before making the first cut._

_Sehun screamed but no sound came out. The others forced him to remain still as they defiled him even more. Warm blood dripped down his sides, pooling on the ground. His back grew slick._

_“You were a pretty sight but who’s going to want you now?” a soldier chortled as he made his way to the dining table. He munched on some snacks that were set out before pausing to look at the birthday cake._

_“Let’s make the birthday boy’s wish come true,” another suggested. The others went to the bedroom to grab their guns as he stuck all thirteen candles into the cake. He struck a match and lit the candles before pulling one out and dropping it on the floor._

_The column of fire grew taller on the wooden floor and climbed up the tablecloth. The soldiers left the apartment as the flames reached the ceiling. Screams were heard from above and below. His birthday cake melted, the frosting turning translucent before being engulfed in flames. Sehun closed his eyes and willed the fire to wash over him, to clean him, and for it all to be over quickly._

His scars showed through the holes. He pulled at the cloth, attempting to cover himself. “I didn’t ask for it,” Sehun said quickly. “Today when the soldiers… I didn’t want it.”

“I… I know, Sehun. Of course you didn’t want it. Those men were disgusting and what they did was horrible. I’m sorry you still have to suffer.”

His vision blurred again. “I’m not a slut,” he choked out.

Kai embraced him. “You’re not a slut. You’re beautiful and the most talented artist I’ve ever met. You’re kind, Sehun, and brave.”

“I felt so dirty,” Sehun whimpered. “B-both times.”

Kai leaned his head to rest on Sehun’s. “It was my fault,” he said quietly.

“No,” Sehun said. “Not your fault.”

The officer remained silent and tightened his hold a bit.

“Kai,” Sehun whispered. “M-make me pure.”

Kai tensed. “Sehun, I don’t want to force you to—”

Sehun shook his head fervently. “I want to. Make me pure again, Kai.”

Kai stayed frozen for a beat before he shifted slightly. He brought his face slowly to Sehun’s and captured his soft lips in a tentative kiss. Sehun wrapped his arms around Kai’s waist and deepened the kiss. Kai moaned and stripped off his coat, plush, beestung lips never leaving Sehun’s. His coat came off and it joined Kai’s on the floor.

They broke the kiss, chests heaving and looked at each other in the warm light of the oil lamp. Kai pulled his knit sweater over his head. Sehun stared for a bit before beginning to shed his own garments. They helped each other out of their trousers and then stood across from each other.

The cold was forgotten, it could not permeate their flushed bodies, their heated gazes.

Sehun drank in the sight of smooth, honey skin. He wanted nothing more than to ravish the man in front of him and be ravished in turn but he held himself still to marvel at the beauty incarnated standing before him, the god embodied in human flesh.

Kai had the most noble body; wide shoulders and a golden expanse of lightly muscled chest tapering down to a slender and toned waist. He reached out to touch the tanned planes of Kai’s smooth chest, fingers reaching up to graze against his sharp clavicles, before his hands journeyed down to stroke the man’s defined abs lovingly. Kai’s breathing came up quicker and his chest heaved.

Sehun traced his hands along Kai’s hips and ghosted them along his buttocks. The officer’s heavenly globes were firm and pronounced. His legs were lithe and lean. There was not an ounce of waste flesh anywhere. Sehun brought his hands together to skim across the length of Kai’s manhood.

Kai gave threw his head back and gasped. Warmed by the reaction, Sehun stepped closer until their members were touching. Sehun closed his eyes as as shudder ran through him. Kai clasped his hands on either side of Sehun’s slim waist before running his hands along Sehun’s abs. He bent his head down to apply soft pecks on Sehun’s neck and the chiselled blades of the sculptor’s shoulders, mouth travelling down to flutter tender kisses on the scars.

Sehun knotted his hands in Kai’s hair and shut his eyes, sweet moans and dovelike sighs spilling out of his throat. His entire body was on fire. Kai’s hands roamed down Sehun’s youthful, shapely form, palms contouring to every angle and curve. He caressed the supple, mother-of-pearl of the younger’s body, worshipping it with the reverence that Sehun deserved.

He knelt before the younger and before Sehun had a chance to comprehend what was happening, engulfed Sehun’s pale, leaking member in his mouth.

Sehun cried out, thrusting involuntarily and grabbing onto Kai’s silky hair. Kai’s eyes widened and his throat constricted. He hollowed his cheeks and applied suction until a pearly essence exploded on his tongue. He choked slightly and swallowed before standing up again. Sehun was about to go on his knees but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“You don’t have to,” Kai murmured.

“I want to.” He licked the tip, tasting the elder, before taking Kai’s velvety rod into his mouth. He ran his tongue against the veins. The organ twitched in his mouth and he moaned. He wasn’t sure what to do but tried to mimic what Kai had done to make him undone, and felt arousal surge once again in his groin when Kai let out a mangled cry and grabbed Sehun’s head to shove his erection deeper into his mouth. Sehun’s eyes widened when Kai came and he tried to swallow. The elder helped him up and guided both of them to the bed.

Kai moved closer to him and took him into his arms. Sehun snuggled against Kai’s body. He felt Kai’s cock come to life once again and press against his side and his blood sang with excitement and promise.

“Are you sure?”

Sehun nodded and fell on his back. Kai pushed the blanket aside and climbed over him. Sehun parted his legs hesitantly.

“Sehun.”

“Please Kai,” whispered Sehun. “I want you.”

Even in the fairly dim lighting, Sehun could see that Kai had turned red.

“I-I’ve never done this before,” he stuttered. Kai sucked on two fingers before gently prodding Sehun’s entrance.

Sehun bit his lip and flinched slightly as a finger intruded into his heat. It wasn’t unpleasant, just a bit uncomfortable. He saw Kai’s frantic and anxious expression and shook his head. “I’m fine, ahhh. More,” he mewled.

Kai obliged him and inserted a second finger. His digits grazed a bundle of nerves and Sehun’s back arched off the bed. Stars shot across his vision, and occupying the center of the galaxy was Kai’s face. His eyes had clouded with lust and desire as he took in Sehun’s pliant, willing form, but Sehun still saw in the dark brown orbs traces of hesitation.

“D-do you not want to?” he asked brokenly. His arms came to cover himself.

“What? No, I-I’ve wanted this for a long time,” Kai admitted, ducking his head down. “But I don’t want to hurt you, Sehun, I don’t—”

Sehun surged up to kiss him. His weight forced the fingers even deeper into his body and he moaned into the kiss. Kai responded, hesitantly at first, then more fiercely, snaking one arm around Sehun while the other began to scissor him.

Sehun whimpered as the fingers pressed against his prostate with more rigor. He inhaled through his nose, not wanting to break the fiery, passion-fuelled kiss. He wrapped his legs around Kai’s waist as the officer continued to prepare him.

When they finally broke the kiss, Kai set him down gently and pressed the tip of his shaft to Sehun’s small, puckered entrance and slowly guided himself in. Sehun gasped at the stretch. Kai stilled and clenched his jaw, letting him adjust and caressing him soothingly. Finally, when the slight pain ebbed away and was replaced quickly by pleasure and want, he nodded urgently.

Kai eased the rest of his length into Sehun’s tight channel with a throaty groan. Sehun moaned. He felt so full, so complete, so loved. Kai pulled out slowly and Sehun’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as the hard organ dragged along his sensitive, velvety walls. He clenched around Kai’s manhood, crying out when his lover’s dick nudged his prostate teasingly.

“M-more! Please, Kai,” he gasped.“Harder!”

“You’re so beautiful like this, Sehun,” Kai breathed as he slammed into him, eliciting a cry from the younger.

“You’re beautiful like this too.”

Sehun’s hands tugged at his nipples and Kai’s head knocked them away. He took one of Sehun’s nipples into his mouth and suckled the puffed, dusky nubs. Sehun’s hands came to thread in Kai’s hair and claw at his back. He increased the pace of his thrusts as he felt Sehun’s walls tightening.

The old fire, made more familiar to him in recent weeks, built in Sehun’s belly. He and Kai writhed and thrust against each other, bodies growing slick with sweat, and sweet, burning, ardent desire feeding the passion of their lovemaking. Their breaths came up in small gasps.

“Kai!” Sehun tightened in a glorious spasm as waves of pleasure crashed into him ferociously. His walls clamped down with the full force of the storm, and he came with a cry.

Kai released into Sehun with a groan and continued thrusting, a bit languidly now, keeping his strokes long and slow, riding out his orgasm as Sehun trembled with pleasure underneath him. He eventually stopped and stayed hugged inside Sehun, breathing heavily. Shaking slightly, he leaned down and kissed Sehun’s open, panting lips.

Sehun stared at him before reddening slightly and covering his face.

Kai laughed before pulling out and falling beside the younger. He covered them with the blanket and pecked Sehun’s forehead.

Sehun uncovered his face and smiled at Kai bashfully.

“That was—” they both started before lapsing into laughter.

Sehun rolled on his side. Some of his semen was still on them both and their hot torsos mushed slickly together. He didn’t mind, though.

“Where’s your handkerchief when we need it?” he asked.

Kai snickered.

“That was really nice,” Sehun said shyly. Heat bloomed on his cheeks once more and he ducked into Kai’s arms. He felt the shake of Kai’s shoulders as he laughed.

“You were really nice,” Kai murmured. And then more quietly, he said, “You saved me.”

Sehun looked at him for a moment, a bit confused. Kai shook his head, smiling. “Do you think,” Sehun began, “that Korea will ever go back to the way it was?”

“I don’t know,” he said softly.

“The war in Europe,” Sehun started.

“Is looking very good for Japan’s allies. Denmark fell, Norway fell, France fell. The Nazis are unstoppable.”

“Mmm, and you’re winning in China as well.”

“The Chinese have more or less started a war of attrition. Not really hoping to win but just hoping to survive. Resistance groups scattered over China are continuing the struggle.” Kai sighed. “I don’t like this. War, occupying land that doesn’t belong to us. Maybe it’ll get better someday.”

“You think?”

“Maybe,” Kai whispered. “Did you hear about the evacuations at the Battle of Dunkirk?”

“Mmm, I heard about it. It was last summer. Before we first met.” Sehun tried to think. “I don’t really remember what happened.”

“There were four hundred thousand men trapped the beaches in northern France. The Germans had driven them there during the invasion of France and initially it looked like all hope was lost. The British Prime Minister Churchill said that to get thirty thousand soldiers rescued would have been a miracle.”

“Were they saved?”

“British civilians manned fishing boats and yachts and merchant ships and they all went to save the soldiers. They brought over three hundred thousand men back to Britain.”

“Wow.”

“They were normal people and they didn’t shoot guns at the Germans and blow things up. But what they did was spectacular and brave and amazing. They held on tight to hope that they could rescue their men and that maybe the tide of the war would change. The soldiers survived when it seemed impossible. Simply surviving is sometimes enough.”

“Maybe we’ll be free someday.” Sehun peeked at Kai and smiled sadly. “Will you sing for me?”

Kai shuffled around a bit before he slung an arm around Sehun’s waist and propped his head on his hand. It was silent except for the sound of the wind howling outside. The window rattled slightly before quieting down, seemingly also anticipating a song. He cleared his throat nervously before starting.

_“Ikani imasu chichi haha,_

_Tsutsuganashi ya tomogaki.”_

He peered curiously at Kai. The tune was to Furusato but the words were different from those at the Chuseok fair. _I wonder if my parents are doing well,_ Sehun managed to translate. _I wonder if my old friends are alright._

_“Ame ni kaze ni tsuketemo,_

_Omoi izuru furusato.”_

“How… did your parents pass away?”

Kai remained silent for a long time and Sehun was about to apologize when Kai spoke. “I received a funeral notice in the mail when I was still in Italy. I was allowed two weeks break at the end of December because they celebrate Christmas and was looking forward to being back with my family but…” His voice wavered at the end.

“I’m sorry for bringing them up.”

“It’s alright.”

“You didn’t even answer my question,” Sehun complained drowsily.

Kai chuckled lightly and tapped Sehun’s waist. “Go to sleep.”

“What does the second half mean?” he mumbled, yawning. “Of the… song. Something about rain… and wind. And home?”

“When it rains, when the wind blows,” Kai whispered. “I think of my home town.”

Sehun hummed and his eyes slowly fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Sehun.”

 

~

Ahh. I hope the flashbacks weren’t too grim. :(

At least they’re together now uwu.

The Rückenfigur refers to the man in Caspar David Friedrich’s _Wanderer above The Sea of Fog,_ first mentioned in chapter 10.

Kai sings the second verse of [Furusato](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcmcXrCihrA&t), a popular Japanese folk song written in 1914. The link is to the same YouTube video that I attached in chapter five. I’ve found some other versions though and I think they’re worth checking out. [This](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vL_mYs6VIpA) one has like prettier pictures in the background that are kinda relevant to the lyrics, but it’s more choral than the first one.

This [link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_T-Uw7EDm-I) is to a Chinese drama detailing the Second Sino-Japanese War that I watched a while back. Go to 26:29 and you’ll see a Japanese soldier who’s stationed in Shandong, China, singing Furusato with this Japanese girl. They both miss home and he talks about missing his mom and it’s such a beautiful moment ahhhh.

It’s one of my favourite dramas and how I discovered the song. I don’t think there are English subtitles and the quality is kinda sketchy but please appreciate that episode.

It’s called 战火大金脉 (zhàn hǔo dà jīn mài) if any of you wanna watch it. It means like wartime golden vein or something. Like some of the characters are gold miners and the Japanese take the gold. If you want to watch, do so on Youku or Tudou for better quality. Wait okay, I couldn’t watch it on Youku for some reason so if you want to find it on YouTube, just search up 大金脉. Type ‘da jin mai’ into Google Translate using the pinyin function for Chinese and those words should come up.

Oof, [here’s](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZqRnObiiqN8&) another episode from the drama where that soldier sings Furusato to other soldiers after kinda being forced but also kinda willing to join the Chinese Eighth Route Army, who are the ones wearing blue. Go to 6:28. They’re basically trying to get the soldier to evoke nostalgia and a longing for home so the other soldiers won’t want to fight anymore. It’s also a really moving moment that I might incorporate into the story later.

There’s a third verse to the song that might come up later.

I’ll talk a bit more about the war in China and the Eighth Route Army soon… 

But for some background information, this chapter takes place in January 1941. From 1938 to December 1941, the Chinese resistance strategy was to trade space for time. This meant that they would not engage in direct offensives. A success of this principle was the defense of Changsha in 1939 and again in 1941. Laying low was a smart move because the Guomindang’s National Revolutionary Army and the Chinese Communist Party’s Red Army and Eighth Route Army lacked the technology, trained infantry, and industrial-military capacity to wage conventional warfare on the Japanese. There was still a bit of a rift between the GMD and the CCP at the time and I’ll talk about that a bit more later.

The Japanese at this point were having difficulties consolidating their control over conquered regions in China, leading them to establish puppet governments such as the one in Nanjing under Wang Jingwei. They already had a large number of successful offensives that saw them raze large developed Chinese cities such as Shanghai in 1937, Nanjing in late 1937 and early 1938 (search up the Nanjing Massacre), and Wuhan in October 1938.

Although the Japanese won the Battle of Shanghai, the GMD managed to drag out what the Japanese hoped would be a three day battle into one that lasted three months. It boosted Chinese morale greatly as it showed that they would not be easily defeated.

There’s a really good movie about the Nanjing Massacre called _The Flowers of War._ Most of it is in Chinese but there are English bits and subtitles. It’s kinda graphic and really sad but very moving.

More on the Second Sino-Japanese War soon.

The war in Europe was oof. It’s not that relevant to the story but I kinda want to provide a brief narrative from the beginning of the war up until January 1941. There’s more to it than I will be putting on here because I cannot handle the sheer volume of information but I’ll put like major things and things Kai mentions in the story. It’s really interesting and I recommend looking into it.

In September 1939, Germany invaded Poland. Although Great Britain and France were allied with Poland, little military intervention was made. The Germans employed the offensive doctrine of blitzkrieg, which was a method of warfare developed by the Germans where a high concentration of armoured or motorized infantry breaks through the opponent’s line of defense with short, powerful attacks. The success of blitzkrieg, which literally means lightning war, relied on speed, surprise, and German air superiority.

In October 1939, the last operational unit of the Polish Army surrendered to the Nazis. The Polish government operated in exile and never surrendered even though they were militarily defeated. In mid September, Poland was also invaded from the east by the Soviet Union.

In spring of 1940, Germany invaded Denmark and Norway. The German navy, the Kriegsmarine, suffered heavy damages but managed to occupy Denmark and Norway. In May 1940, the Germans attacked France, invading through the neutral nations of Belgium the Netherlands, and Luxembourg to circumvent the Maginot Line.

Although the three countries engaged in fierce resistance, they were eventually occupied. The Maginot Line was a line of military fortifications on the French border with German to prevent an attack. It was difficult to get through, so the Germans instead went through neutral nations and attacked France through the Ardennes region which was very forested. The Allies thought that the Ardennes Forest would be a natural barrier but with the use of tanks and motorized infantry, the Germans were able to bypass the Ardennes. This meant that the German attack took many French by surprise.

The Western Allies, which consisted primarily of the British, French, and Belgian forces, collapsed fairly quickly under blitzkrieg. The bulk of the Allied armies were trapped at Dunkirk. Even though it looked like the war would be lost to the Germans, British civilians manned their merchant ships, fishing boats, pleasure boats, and others that came to be known as the Little Ships of Dunkirk to rescue the soldiers.

More than three hundred thousand of the four hundred thousand men were rescued. The Royal British Navy and the Royal Canadian Navy also succeeded in evacuating a large number of troops. The evacuation, officially named Operation Dynamo, came to be known as the Miracle of Dunkirk, although in Germany it was advertised as a decisive Wehrmacht victory.

The Wehrmacht was the German infantry. They were ordered to stop the offensive and let the Luftwaffe, which was the German air force, essentially finish the job at the Battle of Dunkirk. However, the clouds were low and flying was dependent on a plethora of other weather conditions, which gave the time for the evacuation to occur.

I found this really nice quote on Wikipedia by a British soldier following the evacuation: “You knew this was the chance to get home and you kept praying, please God, let us go, get us out, get us out of this mess back to England. To see that ship that came in to pick me and my brother up, it was a most fantastic sight. We saw dogfights up in the air, hoping nothing would happen to us and we saw one or two terrible sights. Then somebody said, there’s Dover, that was when we saw the White Cliffs, the atmosphere was terrific. From hell to heaven was how the feeling was, you felt like a miracle had happened.”

The 2017 movie _Dunkirk_ is also really nice, I cry every time. I highly recommend if you haven’t seen it already.

In June 1940, Italy, Germany’s ally, invaded France from the south. That was when Italy joined WWII, declaring war on both Britain and France as Mussolini believed the conflict would end soon. France signed an armistice on June 22, 1940 and was split into German and Italian occupation zones. There was a government set up in Vichy, but it was a rumpt state and largely subordinate to Nazi Germany.

The Battle of Britain began in July 1940 between the German Luftwaffe and the British Royal Air Force. The objective was to get Britain to agree on a peace settlement and for the Luftwaffe to achieve air superiority. German planes attacked RAF airfields and infrastructure, factories involved in aircraft production and strategic infrastructure.

In October 1940, the Luftwaffe began bombing cities at night, known as the Blitz. The RAF was superior though, and overwhelmed the Luftwaffe. British planes also attacked German ships. Germany’s failure to destroy the British air force is seen by some as the first major German defeat in the war. British historians see the Battle of Britain as lasting from July to October 1940, as they view the Blitz as a separate event. German historians see the Battle of Britain as lasting from July 1940 to May or June 1941, including the Blitz.

The Soviet Union forcibly annexed Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania in June 1940 as well as some regions in Romania. The relations between Germany and the USSR began to sour sometime in late 1940.

The Tripartite Pact was signed in September 1940, forming the Axis powers, which expanded in November when Hungary, Romania, and Slovakia joined.

Italy invaded Egypt in September 1940, starting the North African Campaign, fought in the deserts of Libya and Egypt, and in Morocco and Tunisia. The British forces fought back against the Italians and Mussolini sought military aid from Hitler, who sent the Afrika Korps under the command of Rommel. The East African Campaign began that summer.

In December 1940, Roosevelt accused Hitler of planning world conquest. The United States had already started sending military aid to China and the Western Allies in 1939.

World War II was really messy but even with all this stuff happening, it was only just beginning to heat up.

The year 1941 was a really big turning point for the war and will also be a really big turning point in the story. Operation Barbarossa began in June 1941, Pearl Harbor in December 1941 saw America declare war on Germany, Italy, and Japan, and join the war. These events will impact the story and there were a bunch of other important events too but all in due time. :D

Ahh sorry for so many notes.

Thanks for reading and thanks for the comments! I LOVE YOU GUYS. <3

 


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